Katie Trouble aka Under His Skin
by Chi Elohana
Summary: When Jonathan Crane first set foot in Arkham Asylum, he knew he'd be around for a while. He had no idea, however, that it would be inside a cell. His only hope of successful escape rests on manipulating his therapist and former student Katie Saunders.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Crane or anything else associated with Batman Begins. However, the other characters and the plot belong to my brain.

------------

Crane couldn't recall most of what happened that night. He was strapped into a straight jacket, then he was on a horse, then he was electrocuted, and then he woke up in a puddle – and in searing pain. His hazy recollections were splattered with memories of his hallucinations. Fire, goblins, bullies, and bats whipping past him like a hurricane. He didn't attempt to hide upon waking among a sea of screaming shadows. He screamed in return, calling out for help from anyone. He grabbed ankles and received a sharp kick to the temple. His next memory was of waking back at Arkham. The first words out of his mouth were quiet and strangled. He caught his reflection in his cell door window and croaked quietly, "What has he done to me?"

------------

Despite the significant dose of fear toxin Batman shot at Crane, his mind hadn't melted. Well, not completely at least. The first month at Arkham was a total blur. The following month was spent in and out of consciousness, fighting off imaginary demons when he managed to stay awake. Finally he began coming back to reality. Daily medication from the new Arkham staff kept him relatively lucid, improving as the days passed. As he regained cognizance, he realized quickly that entire staff at Arkham was replaced by a new group of doctors, and along with them, a new ideology. Snakes of fury wrestled in his stomach. These horrible people, destroying Crane's years of work. Their penchant for rehabilitation (against every professional bone in his body) would, however, become his key to escape. Along with the manipulation of his new therapist, Dr. Saunders.

------------

Dr. Katie Saunders averted her eyes from Crane when she first administered his morning medication.

When she saw his name on a suggested list of her new long-term patients, she quieted a gasp with her left hand, holding the list in her shaking right. Luckily the newly appointed head of Arkham Asylum, Dr. Vikram Desai, stepped out of the room at that moment and didn't see Katie's reaction. She recovered and confirmed Crane as her patient, along with 12 others.

When Katie initially heard of Crane's downfall months ago, she became physically ill. Crane had been her favorite professor at Gotham University. After graduation, she heard he had been dismissed for inappropriate behavior in class.

That wasn't the Crane she knew. She thought he was a concerned and supportive professor. Maybe it was just her, though. After all, everyone had complained about his methods. He was unconventional, but sometimes that made for the best doctors, she would say. Finally she accepted that she had simply and truly found him attractive back then, and she didn't want to admit she was attracted to the nutty professor of Gotham U. Now she was faced with him as her psychotic, criminal patient. When her colleagues heard that Katie accepted Crane, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. None would have the patience, even as esteemed professionals, to attempt to help a man who had done so much wrong to the institution, and then, to Gotham.

Crane was too lost in his own thoughts to recognize Katie. During that semester years ago, she was his favorite student. He looked forward to her participation in class. Against his better judgment, he also looked forward to watching her in class. Or, more specifically, watching her watch him. She was enamored, and he was flattered. Toward the end of the semester, a dream made him reconsider his one-on-one after class and in-office meetings where they discussed the day's topics in greater detail. The dream lasted inside his eyelids for hours after he woke. He couldn't look at her that day.

In his dream, he walked between two rows of desks as students took their final exams. He looked over Katie's shoulder, as he had with the other students, but caught a glimpse of something else. The small gold heart dangling from a delicate chain rested comfortably in her cleavage, winking at him and inviting him to look too long. He swallowed hard, surprised at himself, and walked slowly to his desk. "Time's up!" he announced minutes later, followed by groans. He sat on the edge of his desk to receive the tests. Students lined up, and at the end of the line of 75 students was Katie.

"I saw you looking," she said playfully, placing her test on the pile in his arms. The doors to the lecture hall slammed as the last student made his way out. She eased up to Crane, the tests keeping her only inches away. Her wavy light brown hair brushed his cheek as she placed her mouth by his ear. "Here's my final exam," she whispered. "This means I'm not your student anymore. Anything you do with me - and _to_ me - is between two adults." Dream Katie took Crane's earlobe between her lips as a quiet moan tickled his ear, then flicked it with her tongue and giggled. She took a step back and looked into his widening pupils. Unbuttoning the top of her tight black cardigan, she cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Right here, Professor Crane, or can you wait to get back to your office?" Of course, this was the part where he woke up.

Now Katie was a doctor herself, wondering if and when Crane would recognize her. She, too, recalled pleasant dreams of him. Every morning before work she reminded herself that she remembered the old Crane. He was a psychotic criminal now. He was a different man.

Crane took the medicine from her left hand and the glass of water from her right. He threw the pills into his mouth and drank the water down in a single, long gulp, never looking at her.

"I'm your new therapist, Dr. Saunders. I'll let your medication settle in and come back in a little while with your breakfast. We can talk while you eat." She looked at him but he looked at the floor beside her. His brilliant blue eyes looked icy in the harsh cell light, and his full lips looked extremely pink in contrast with his pale skin. He kept his hands laced in his lap politely, as if he didn't have handcuffs on. His hair was mussed, and red shadows fell under his eyes. Gone were the signature glasses she once found so appealing and eccentric. Katie left the cell and walked down the hallway with the unconscious, swift and powerful stride she acquired over the years. Being so young, she had to project an air of authority. It wasn't going to come from her looks. Katie had large, light brown eyes highlighted by flecks of light green and amber, framed by thick brown lashes. Her eyebrows made soft, happy arches over her eyes. Her mother affectionately called Katie's skin "milky" – smooth, flawless, and almost iridescent. Not that she couldn't tan if she wanted to, but who had the time? She was thin, but toned – she had to be in case a patient got out of hand. But the feature most belying her experience were her dimples, appearing near the edges of her lips with every genuine smile.

Katie grabbed a tray from the breakfast cart and informed the intern that she would give Crane his meal. The intern handed her an apple. "Don't forget yourself." "Thanks," Katie laughed, and tucked the apple between her elbow and her side as she carefully, but quickly carried Crane's tray through the corridors. A guard unlocked Crane's cell door once more for Katie. "You want me to come in while you meet with him?"

Katie thought for a second. "Just stay in the vicinity. I'm not sure yet if he'll take to me." A pang of guilt washed through Katie as she heard the words. She made it sound like Crane was a wounded puppy and she was his vet. She took a breath through her nose and reminded herself to treat him with respect, not pity. The guard held the cell door open enough for Katie to slip in under his arm, tray remaining in tact the whole way. She placed it down on Crane's asylum-issued desk and sat in a chair across from him, holding the apple in her hands.

"How are you this morning, Dr. Crane?" she asked him with a pleasant, friendly tone, but without a smile. She pulled her notebook from her jacket pocket and clicked the button on the end of her pen.

"Oh, dandy. I just love watching the sun rise through the tiny hole ten feet up the wall," Crane gestured to the window with his cuffed hands. "How 'bout you, Dr. Sanders? How are you this morning, stuck treating a homicidal psychopath like myself?" He cast her a charming smile, but his eyes were open just a little too wide, and his eyebrow twitched.

"First of all, I'm not stuck. I could choose not to work with you. Second, it's Saunders, not Sanders. Third, I'm doing quite well today, thank you. So, again, how are you Dr. Crane?" Her voice never lost its pleasant tone.

Crane paused, his smile fading and his eyes returning to normal. She referred to him as Dr. Crane. _Doctor_ No one had shown him that respect so far. "I'm horrible. How else could I be? I hate oatmeal. I need coffee. This breakfast offers nothing to start my day the right way. At least you get an apple." He motioned to her lap.

Katie looked down at the notes from the therapist who spent a month getting nowhere with Crane. "How about the voices and hallucinations? How are they this morning?"

"Fine. When I wake up, it's not pleasant. But at least someone here has brains enough to prescribe a pretty effective cocktail. The only significant episodes I have are during the night. Right now I'm stable."

Katie put the apple down on the tray and took Crane's small paper bowl of oatmeal. She swallowed a spoonful and licked her lips unconsciously. She pointed her spoon at him, "You're a challenge, because you know so much about psychiatry, and in turn so much about my roll here," she stuck the spoon into the oatmeal, "but what you might not know is how much I _care_ about the well being of my patients. I'm not here to prosecute or judge anything about your crime or anyone else's. I'm here to help you. Now, obviously," she stirred the bowl without looking, "I must report my professional opinions about your status, and those can be used in court. But that's not the focus of my job. Now eat your apple."

Crane looked at her with mild amusement and took the apple off the tray, lifting both tethered hands to his mouth. "You're young and naïve, Dr. Saunders. You'll realize us bad folks aren't worth rehabilitating. We don't really _get_ better, we just make _you_ more nuts."

"Ok, but can you at least humor me in our sessions? It's probably in your best interest since you're stuck with me four days a week."

"Only because you asked so nicely," he smiled, looking up at her as he took another bite. Gaining her trust would be all too easy, he thought.

"You should also know that things are pretty different here. We focus on out-of-cell activities as much as possible – that is, with the patients who require twenty-four hour restraint. Although I won't judge your alleged crimes, I _will_ judge your ability to participate in the world outside this room."

"Oh, really? And what kind of _activities_ does Arkham provide now?"

Katie remembered how much she loved the way his head would twitch to the side or forward when he emphasized words, somehow without his neck moving, a single, perfectly arched eyebrow raising slightly. She smiled as he emphasized the word "activities".

"Well some things are obviously still under construction, but currently we have a library, two game rooms, a yard with three basketball courts, and…uh…oh! – and an art room. Patients gain access to these activities mainly through good behavior, plus approval between their therapist, psychiatrist, and caseworker. Without proper integration into normal, healthy daily activities, it's almost a guarantee they'll wind up right back here, and that's no fun."

"So, what? We become friends and I can actually read a newspaper or throw a ball at a hoop?"

"Not in so many words, but I think you understand. So do you have any questions for me?"

"Yes, Dr. Saunders," Crane flashed his smile again, but his nostrils flared slightly. "Do you _really_ think allowing murderers and rapists to play some foosball will make them healthy? Most people here are beyond help," Crane's jaw began to tense and his blue eyes grew wide again, boring into hers. He pronounced every syllable with precision and leaned towards her. "Allowing them to think they have _any capacity_ to fit in with society is more cruel than keeping them locked in a cage. What you and your colleagues have planned here will blow up in your face. I'm just sorry I'll be stuck behind this door when that happens."

Katie calmly took another bite of oatmeal. "Well," she said after a long pause, her voice even toned, "lucky for you, we don't feel that way." She lifted the mini carton of juice sitting on Crane's tray. "You going to finish this?" She opened the carton and drank it quickly. "Like I said, I'm here to help you, and I don't think we can do much else today. I'll see you tomorrow, same time."

Crane watched Katie swoop up the tray and exit under the guard's arm. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought, but it might be more fun.

------------

Crane despised three o'clock. Each day, when the hour and minute hand met at that horrible right angle, a guard arrived to gather Crane from his cell. Crane's hands were cuffed behind his back as the guard guided him through the corridors with a careful but firm hold on his arm. They walked down halls coated in fresh layers of very light blue and green paint. This day was the first time he noticed one of the new "game rooms". The only thing he had time to notice through the game room window was a gigantic TV surrounded by four inmates holding video game controllers. "Where did they find the money to buy TV's for these people?" Crane asked out loud. "Anonymous donor," the young guard explained. "That's how they made most of these updates. A pile of money was placed in a special fund allocating updates." Crane rolled his eyes.

The two men arrived at their destination and Crane groaned audibly. The guard unlocked the heavy steel door and allowed Crane to step inside. "Hands through the hole please." Crane backed up to the door and allowed the guard to unlock his handcuffs.

The interior decor wasn't the only aesthetic update at Arkham. Inmates could now choose from gray, white, or light blue thermal shirts, undershirts, and shapeless button up shirts. They could wear jeans or khaki pants. Their number was sewn onto the breast of each top, but otherwise they looked like someone you might see on the street. Not that Crane would have been caught dead on the street in his outfit.

With a shiver, Crane began unbuttoning his light blue short-sleeved shirt. He laid it carefully on a small bench – the only item resembling furniture. He slid out of the long sleeve gray thermal shirt, the pale skin of his back immediately covered with goose bumps. He curled his shoulders forward against the cold, unconsciously sucking in his already thin stomach. Then, slowly, came the sneakers, socks, and khakis. He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his freezing chest.

"Come on, Crane," a guard's voice called, tired and with little patience. "We go through this _every_day. I have to watch you. But as I told you before, I'll try my hardest not to have too much fun. Now put your underwear on the bench and step forward."

Crane could have breathed fire. He made it through every other ritual of the asylum with smug disapproval, but not the shower. It sent him hurdling backwards toward his disgraceful childhood. The new Arkham staff might not have intended it to be so humiliating, but this was of no comfort to a thin, shivering, naked Crane.

Obeying the faceless order, Crane stepped out of his dark gray boxer briefs, curling even further into himself. Almost the same instant as he stepped under the showerhead, very warm water cascaded down his back. He closed his eyes, basking in the relief, breathing in the steam. He bent his head back to meet the water, letting it push his hair away from his face.

"Five minutes," the voice announced mechanically.

Crane twisted the top off the travel-sized shampoo waiting for him on a soap dish permanently affixed to the wall at waist level. He held it above his head, the entire contents dribbling onto his hair. He ran his fingertips back and forth slowly, closing his eyes instead of staring at the wall. And then it happened. The image of the young doctor from the morning popped into his head. He thought of her hands replacing his, traveling down his neck, down his chest, down his stomach…

"Two minutes."

Crane shook from his unintentional daydream. What the _hell _was that, he asked himself. There were plenty of female staff members he encountered every day. None snuck into his head like this, almost causing something to make the shower situation even more embarrassing. He ran the soap over himself to little effect and jumped away from the shower without waiting for the water to stop. His hand snatched the folded towel from the bench and he dried off and dressed before the steam escaped the room through the vented fan. _Damn, damn, damn_, he repeated.

"Something on your mind?" the guard asked Crane as they made the familiar walk back to his cell.

"Why would you ask that?"

"You usually have something sarcastic to say, and you're silent. Made me worry."

"Oh. No. Nothing to speak of."

Crane looked over his left shoulder at the game room as they passed.

"Rethinking your attitude about our activities, Dr. Crane?" a soft voice asked in his right ear. His head snapped to the right.

"You sure there isn't something on your mind?" the guard asked.

"I just need my evening medication early today, that's all."

Crane looked less forward to tomorrow's morning meeting than to the shower. There was no way this naïve little thing would worm her way under his cool exterior, he would make damn sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Crane or anything else associated with Batman Begins. However, the other characters and the plot belong to my brain.

------------

Katie entered Crane's cell the next morning still clad in her olive green pea coat. She placed two covered paper cups of coffee on Crane's desk and a paper bag. She slipped out of the coat and laid it on the back of her chair.

"No one should be subjected to the breakfast you had yesterday. Sorry it's decaf, it's the best I could do without interfering with your meds. And speaking of meds…"

Katie left, returning momentarily with a tiny paper cup holding Crane's red and yellow capsules.

"Don't want to forget these, either," she said, opening the paper bag and placing two bagels on the desk. "Do you know what you would like to talk about today?"

Crane took a long, slow sip, attempting to hide the sweet relief of his first taste of coffee in months. He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Nah."

"Oh, don't make me choose," Katie said while chewing.

"That's not very lady-like, Dr. Saunders."

Katie swallowed. "I'm not often lady-like, Dr. Crane. Much to my mother's dismay."

"And what about your mother? Let's talk about her."

"No, no. Pick another topic."

"How about the dry weather we're having? It's doing a number on my skin."

"Or," Katie looked down at her notebook, "why don't we talk about yesterday afternoon."

Crane's lips parted slightly as he pictured the daydream from the shower. "What do you mean?" he asked after a moment, trying to sound casual.

"The guard left a note for me. It said that you asked for your evening medication early. Why?"

Crane unlaced his fingers upon realizing his nails were digging fiercely into his skin. "I heard a voice without a body. That kind of thing makes you want to be medicated."

"Usually you hear them later in the evening?"

"If I hear them, yes, it's after dark and before dawn."

"Well it might have been me."

Crane's eyebrows furrowed. "Uhm…what?"

"You met me yesterday, which might have thrown off your internal schedule. Everything here is so ordered, a new person can really mix things up."

Crane let out a breath and stared at his coffee. He was letting her get under his skin and she wasn't even trying. He thought about the daydream in the shower for the rest of the evening yesterday, wishing it wasn't so pleasant, forcing himself not to imagine the dream further.

"Yes, Dr. Saunders, that was probably it. I'm much better now. And there _is_ something I would like to talk about. I want to know a little more about the privileges you're offering here now. Are there any work-related ones? Mopping, peeling carrots, making birdhouses, washing windows…?"

"Yes, there are some work rehabilitation programs. I'll have to get back to you on the birdhouse part though."

"What do I have to do to get one of those jobs?"

"You can't."

"You just said they're available."

"Yes I did. But not for you."

"Are you purposely trying to irritate me, or are you just good at it?"

Katie sipped her coffee. "Dr. Crane, we offer work rehab to people who rob 7-11's because their toothbrush told them to. Not for…well, you."

Crane knew Arkham Asylum inside and out. The blueprints were practically burned onto his retinas. There was no escaping Arkham from the lower levels. But up in the offices…

"Can we meet somewhere other than this cell? I might be able to think better outside my kennel."

"For now we have to stay here. Personally I would also prefer to meet somewhere else on the grounds. But you need to open up to me a little more before we go gallivanting."

Crane sighed and straightened his posture. "Fine. You tell me what you _want_ to know."

Katie picked up her pad and pen. "Let's talk about your preoccupation with fear."

"A heady subject to start off with, Dr. Saunders. I'm sure all your schooling taught you to begin with my childhood."

"We could start there, if you'd prefer."

Crane's lips broke into a toothy smile, "Dr. Saunders, my childhood is none of your concern. A pretty little thing like you likely grew up coddled in the arms of Society's best, having cute tea parties with your daddy while mommy baked cinnamon rolls. Let me guess – Ivy League? Voted most-likely-to-succeed? Homecoming Queen?" Crane caught the first micro gesture of displeasure on Katie's face. His smile broadened.

"Don't look so proud of yourself," Katie said, "For a formally renowned psychiatrist you're way off the mark. We're not here to talk about me, though."

"I deserve to know more about the person administering my therapy, don't I? For example, what are your credentials?"

"Now, that we can talk about. I received my undergrad, grad, and doctorate from Gotham U – not quite Ivy League, but still respectable. I double-majored in psychiatry and urban planning, and graduated first in both departments. After my internship and residency, I worked in a federal prison treating the most severely mentally disturbed patients. Then I spent a year in Mexico consulting the construction of an asylum for the criminally insane, then six months working in the asylum we built. I received a call for a job here, and, viola."

"And you weren't voted most-likely-to-succeed?"

Katie's face softened. "More like, most-likely-to-lose-her-lunch-money-to-some-asshole."

Crane looked away from her. "Oh, please."

"No, it's true! College was my prince charming. It took me away from the torments of grade school, which followed me all through high school. Kids were terrible, family sucked."

"Good for you."

Katie realized she hit a nerve. "I apologize," she said after a pause. "Just know it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. Most people don't gravitate towards criminal asylums with that kind of background, anyway."

Crane didn't look at her.

"You can talk to me about anything in your life, past, present, and future. Mundane or extraordinary. How about starting with something mundane?"

Crane thought for a moment. "The showers here."

"The showers here, what?"

"The entire showering situation. It's degrading. For all I know, a group of guards and nurses could be sitting around the shower monitor passing around a bowl of popcorn."

"Stand up."

Crane looked up at Katie.

"Come on, stand up. Marty?" Katie called to the guard. "Can you escort us to the east wing?"

Katie motioned for Crane to leave the cell. The guard double-checked Crane's handcuffs, and Crane stiffened as Katie took gentle hold of his upper arm and led him down the hallway.

"Care to clue me in?"

"Nah." Katie looked Crane in the eye and smiled.

Katie was much too close for comfort. The warmth of her hand gave Crane a little chill down his neck. Her hair bounced on her shoulders as they walked, assaulting him with its clean, strawberry scent. Stupid woman, Crane thought. Stupid, delicious-smelling woman.

Katie led them past the shower to a steel door. The guard unlocked it.

"This is the shower surveillance room. This is Trevor."

A thin man in his mid-thirties with frizzy black hair waved from behind a monitor.

"For five hours spread out each day, Trevor sits here. Does anyone ever join you?"

"No, Dr. Saunders. Even if I asked them to, they wouldn't."

"Never?"

"Never, ever. I also have a privacy screen on the monitor, so unless someone is directly over my shoulder, they can't see what's going on. No one's every tried, though."

Katie led Crane back down the hallway.

"Does that make you feel any better?" Katie asked once seated back in their respective chairs.

Crane's silence was enough of a "yes" for her.

------------

Crane cursed Katie during his shower. He wasn't nearly as bothered anymore.

Returning to his cell, Crane and the guard exchanged glances as they heard the "click-clack-click-clack" of high heels running down the adjacent corridor, getting progressively louder and faster. Katie burst around the corner, practically running into the two men. She held a bloody hand over her forehead.

"You alright, Dr. Saunders?" the guard asked.

"You should see the other guy!" she called, still running.

She wasn't joking. Moments later an inmate was pulled down the hallway by four guards. His nose was bleeding into his mouth and he looked only semi-conscious. "Fucking bitch," he muttered

------------

Katie retrieved her college yearbook from one of her overstuffed bookshelves. She settled into her sofa, also overstuffed, and leafed through the pages until she came to the section titled "Gotham University's Professors". Her eyes rested on a candid shot of Crane instructing a class. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled to just below his elbows and his tie was loosened. The photographer caught him in the middle of a sentence, arms out as if he were holding a large, invisible box. His eyes sparkled and there was a hint of a smile on his face as he spoke.

Please, please, let him be this man underneath, she thought.

She figured he would recognize her within the first session, but after the first week there was still nothing. Would he be mad at her for holding the information back? Would he even care? Which bothered her more?

Katie wanted all her patients to improve, but she knew her desire for Crane's success was personal. Her heart skipped when he asked about work opportunities. It was a sign that he was ready to think about life outside his confinement, she thought. Dr. Desai would never let Crane take that opportunity, however, at least not any time soon. Maybe she could take him out of his cell for a session, though. Maybe Desai would agree to that.

------------

"Where's the field trip?" Crane asked the guard escorting him through the Easter-egg colored corridors of Arkham. Katie didn't show up for their meeting. Instead, the guard handed Crane a jacket to put on before the handcuffs and locked the door behind them.

The guard escorted Crane onto the elevator, down four floors, and through a maze of hallways. Crane knew them well and fought back his vehement contempt for his current situation. They approached a set of double doors that Crane recalled opening to a field riddled with weeds, mice, illegally dumped Gotham trash, the occasional fear toxin victim-gone-wrong…

The memory cut off as the double doors opened. The vast fenced-in area now resembled a park more than a wasteland. Crane's upper lip curled, as if the double doors had opened to reveal a sea of vomit.

Crane continued to be lead by the arm until they reached a basketball court. The court had its own fencing with a set of bleachers just outside the barrier, a guard at each interior corner. Two teams of four men tossed loud, raunchy taunts at one another almost as often as they tossed the ball.

Katie waved to Crane from the bleachers. The guard left Crane standing in front of the bleachers and walked over to talk with another guard through the fence.

"I figured you would be at home licking your wounds," Crane called to her with a smile, eyeing the bandage above her left eyebrow. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the sun lit up her light brown eyes. Crane didn't notice, however, because he hadn't seen sunshine in months. Katie looked away so as not to laugh at his squinting.

"How do you see so well without your glasses?"

"Nothing to see, really," Crane shrugged.

Katie patted the bleacher bench above her. Crane navigated the bleachers cautiously and sat. Katie turned around to face him.

"Is this better than your cell?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You asked to meet outside your cell and I delivered. Be more specific next time."

"This is fine." Crane cringed as a player celebrated his 3-point shot with a solid ten seconds of swear words.

"Do you know what you want to talk about today?"

"The devolution of the English language."

Katie peeked up at Crane as he watched the game in horror. "I held up my end of the bargain. Now it's you're turn."

Crane broke his gaze and glanced down at Katie briefly. He sighed. "Pose a question. I'll consider answering," he said, returning to the game.

The morning sun's orange glow made Crane look somewhat healthy. She felt a little braver that morning than usual, with the sunrise dancing in his sea-foam blue eyes.

"Ok. How about…do you remember me?" She held her breath.

"Which one of us is the crazy one, again?"

"No, from before. Before last week," Katie instantly felt less brave and twisted her head to watch the game.

Crane looked at her and was greeted with a straight shot down her v-neck sweater. Sitting there, laughing at him, was that little gold heart. He clenched his jaw. He could hear his pulse in his ears. She was _that_ girl. The only student to ever make him think…thoughts.

His silence worried Katie but she wouldn't look back. "I'm sorry if you're upset I didn't tell you right away. I thought you'd remember. I guess I wasn't thinking. You only have a handful of professors as a student, but professors have hundreds of students. So maybe it doesn't matter and now I'm rambling."

He remained silent. _Damnit!_, Katie thought, this is so unprofessional and embarrassing. She turned around and looked at him.

"Ah yes. Excellent student, if I recall. Very involved in class." His forced smile looked more like a snarl.

"I apologize."

"Nonsense."

The girl with the crush, and here she was, having chosen him as her patient.

"If you're uncomfortable working with me-"

"I would tell you."

"You're positive?"

Now Crane smiled confidently. "Of course, Katie."

Her first name on his lips made her heart flutter back to six years earlier. She smiled to herself briefly, but Crane caught the dimples. In a moment, he scrapped the plans for escape he had been concocting in his head for the past week. This little development made it a whole new ballgame.

------------

For the month following Katie's admission, Crane worked extra hard to let her think she was progressing with him. He revealed bits and pieces of his childhood, adolescence, all the way through his fear experiments. Katie wasn't foolish, but her judgment was clouded. She would have seen through the game with any other patient.

"I want to ask you something, but I don't want you to gloat," Crane said to Katie

Katie looked away from the court they watched each morning and looked up to Crane. "Ok. I promise I won't gloat."

"Will you take me to one of the game rooms?"

Katie turned back around and watched the game.

"You're gloating, aren't you?" Crane said with a sarcastic sigh.

"Maybe. A little."

Katie called the guard over and the three wound their way through Arkham, up to the game room on Crane's floor. The room was the size of a small ballroom with ceilings just as high. One wall was occupied with floor-to-ceiling windows (barred, of course). Along the other walls were sporadic bookshelves of games, magazines, and newspapers, as well as tables and chairs. At such an early hour, there were only two other inmates accompanied by their two therapists, all playing a board game by the windows, and a guard at the door. Towards the center was the TV Crane recognized from before.

"What would you like to do?"

Crane paused as if he didn't already know his choice. "Maybe some TV games. But – no, nevermind – I don't know how to play those."

Katie laughed so hard that tiny tears welled in the corner of her eyes. After several second her laughed slowed into a long, high sigh. "TV games!" she repeated.

"If you're going to make fun of me we can forget this whole thing."

Katie sucked her lips between her teeth to stop laughing. "I'm sorry. I didn't get enough sleep. Come on, I'll show you how to play some video games." She looked back at the guard and smiled.

Crane sat on a small sofa. Katie looked through the stack of games on the shelf under the TV.

"There's racing games, sports games, puzzle-type games, retro arcade games, role playing games, adventure games, party games-"

"What games can two people play?"

Crane caught Katie's smile in the reflection of the TV. "A racing game or a sports game is probably best."

"Ok, then. Let the race begin."

Katie handed Crane a controller. "Practice first. You're the yellow car in the center of the screen. This button," Katie pointed to the controller held loosely between Crane's hands, "makes your car go forward, this button throws you into reverse, this button makes your car break, this button holds your car to the road when you take a sharp turn, these buttons change your point of view, and these buttons help you do tricks."

Crane stared blankly at the controller.

"All you really need to know for now is go and stop. And the little stick moves you side to side."

Katie un-paused the game. Eleven cars sped away from the starting line.

"Green button."

Crane held the button down.

"I think I killed my driver."

"That's ok, try again, but steer this time."

The little yellow car took a 360 into an onramp.

"Yes, I definitely killed him this time. People actually do this for fun?"

Katie rolled her eyes and sat next to Crane on the small sofa. There was just enough room for them both side by side. "Ok, pay attention to what I do."

The little yellow car navigated between the eleven others, avoiding absurd amounts of obstacles in the road. Katie took the car around the track three times until she finished first place.

"Did that help?" she asked, looking at Crane. He was already looking at her face, not the TV or her hands. Their noses were merely six inches apart. "Want to try again?"

"I can't really tell what you're doing with your hands from this angle."

Katie leaned closer to Crane and tilted her hands towards him. "This better?"

"Much better," he said quietly, his mouth three inches from her ear.

Katie took the car on an identical run. "Ready to try again?"

Crane took the controller from her hands, brushing his fingers against hers as he grabbed it. The yellow car made it halfway around the track until it met its fiery demise against a guardrail.

"You're making progress!"

"Only because you're so helpful." He meant to sound cheerful and innocent, but his early morning throat caused the words to come out whispered and low.

Katie slid from the sofa to the floor. "Would you like to play something else?"

"But I was getting better."

"How about checkers?"

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable, Dr. Saunders?" He managed the innocent tone at last.

"No, no, no. I think someone else wants to play." Katie gestured to an inmate waiting on a chair nearby.

"Ah. Well," Crane approached a bookcase filled with games, "how about Scrabble?"

"Now you're talkin'."

Katie carried the game to a nearby table surrounded by four chairs. Crane sat in the one directly next to her.

"You aren't going to sit across from me?"

"No. This way we're less likely to make eye contact. Keeps you guessing."

Crane held the bag of letter tiles for Katie. As she pulled her letters out, Crane grabbed her fist gently in his. "Ah ah ah. You take one first and we see who gets the lowest letter." He held her gaze and smiled as he released her hand.

"That's not how I play." Katie lined her tiles up on her little stand. She arranged and rearranged the letters, waiting for Crane to choose his.

"Do we always have to play by your rules, Katie?"

Katie glanced at the guard still standing by the door, but now across the room, then to Crane. She kept Crane's eye contact.

"If you want to play at all, yes. We'll always play by my rules."

Crane looked at the guard, but the guard was watching another inmate lead the little yellow car to victory. "Oh come now, Katie," he whispered, "you were once very interested in the way I played. You haven't lost all interest, have you? No more respect for your professor?"

She felt like the naïve little girl he accused her of being at their first meeting.

"What do you want, Crane?" she asked in the best professional tone she could muster.

"Oh, not much," he said, smiling and looking off to the ceiling. His gaze fell back on her and his smile widened. "Just the very same thing I think you still want, deep down under that therapist's hat you're wearing." He reached up and brushed the scar above her eyebrow with his fingertip.

Katie calmly slid her chair out from the table and, without looking back, walked straight to the door.

"Take him back to his cell," she said quietly.

"Did something happen?" the guard asked with concern.

"No, that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid. Let him know I'll see him Thursday."

Crane watched Katie whisper to the guard, then slip out the door and walk swiftly past the window. He kept smiling, vividly picturing his plans for Thursday.

Katie locked herself in her office and put her face in her hands. She was ashamed at the amount of effort it took to walk away from the table. Even more than that, she was ashamed at how good it felt when he set those big eyes on her, as if he were the one in the position of power. "You haven't lost all interest, have you? No more respect for your professor?" She pushed her fingertips into her temples when she thought of the response she wanted to say.

"I never lost interest. Not even now."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Looking back at the previous two chapters, I realized there were a couple missing words – like one "not" that would have helped a sentence make more sense. I have put myself in time out and I promise to be more careful. If you're on to chapter 3, though, it can't have bugged you too much. Lastly - if you review for me, I would be so happy I would kiss you. Or not kiss you, whichever you prefer. Just note that reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything about Batman, but I do have some action figures.

------------

The night nurse made her way down the hall checking off each inmate's name and writing short notes. She looked no older than seventeen, with deep brown doll's eyes and enough long, curly brown hair for three women her size. She stood on tiptoe to peek in each small, shatter proof window, her petite white shoes squeaking as she strained to see.

"11:31pm K. Allen," she wrote, "sleeping on floor again."

"11:32pm J. Carlie – singing to self, rocking back and forth."

The nurse didn't need to peek into Crane's room. His nose touched the rectangular window, his eyes peering down at her.

"Is something the matter?" she asked in her high, sweet voice.

"Yes. Not one of your colleagues administered my medication this evening." Crane looked down on her with a cold, accusatory stare.

"I'm sorry. Let me go check your chart."

The nurse returned with a clipboard. "Mr. Crane, it says in the intern's notes that you received your medication at 7:28 this evening," her apologetic tone grated against Crane's ears.

"_Doctor_ Crane, little nurse," Crane spit the words "little nurse" as if they made him gag. "I didn't go through a decade's worth of schooling and training so a two-year graduate like yourself could call me _mister_."

The nurse looked around for a guard, but at this hour there were few of them, and they were making their own rounds.

Crane smirked. "You don't need help. All you need to do is give me two pills through this door," he pounded his fist against the window emphasizing the last two words. "I refuse to have a night filled with terror because some sloppy intern mistakenly noted that I received my medication."

She looked down so he wouldn't see her eyes fill with tears.

"Just give them to me! Why is this so challenging for you? Walk your little legs over to the medical closet and bring me back two pills. That's all. I think you can manage."

She looked around again as if someone might rescue her. "I need to reach the doctor on call first."

"Why would they put someone so incompetent in charge of a floor full of crazies? You don't need to call a doctor," Crane toothlessly smiled. "You're in charge. Make the decision they empowered you to make and bring me what I need."

The nurse retrieved the pills and opened the small hole at waist level. She reached in with a shaky hand. "Please take these."

Crane wrapped his hand around her wrist and rubbed back and forth with his thumb. "See? That's all you needed to do. You're a good girl." He took the pills with his free hand.

The nurse ripped her hand away and frantically locked the little hole.

"Thank you!" Crane called, now sitting on his bed.

"11:55pm J. Crane. Patient insisted he was not administered his regular evening medication. Administered dose at 11:52pm."

Crane forced the large capsules down without water. He lay back on his pillow and grinned.

------------

Katie arrived Thursday morning to find Crane's cell wide open and Crane nowhere in sight.

"Chris?" she asked the guard. "Where's my patient?"

"Crane's in sickbay."

"Is it something serious?" Katie noticed the sheets on his bed, even the fitted sheet, were in a rumpled ball at the bottom of the mattress.

"Looked like it. Around four, the AM nurse found him gasping and spitting up bloody foam. Be glad you missed it," he looked at the bed gravely, recalling the scene. "It was like an exorcism or something."

"Thanks," Katie said, patting the stocky man on the shoulder. She ran through the hall and down two flights of stairs to sickbay.

Katie searched the large whiteboard in sickbay for Crane's room assignment. "73A!" she said out loud, sprinting to the room.

Katie froze in the doorway as Dr. Desai stood over an unconscious Crane. He was hooked to an EKG monitor, the receptors stuck to his chest under his white t-shirt, an IV pumping into his scratch-covered arm. Hoarse, shallow breaths slowly escaped his parted lips.

"He overdosed," Desai said.

"How? That's impossible." Katie said, slowly approaching the bed.

Desai looked up from Crane's limp form to Katie. "Not when he's given two doses four hours apart."

Katie examined Crane's chart. "You're kidding me!"

"Luckily he was found in enough time. He should be awake by this afternoon, probably even strong enough to return to his cell tomorrow morning. A little worse for ware, but better."

Katie frowned deeply, still looking at the chart. "This is ridiculous."

"That's exactly why I came down. This kind of thing is unacceptable. I called Jennifer back in – she should be here within fifteen minutes. You can address this with me if you'd like."

"Oh, I'd like," she said, shaking her head at the nurse's note.

Desai left Katie alone with Crane. Minutes later and with more clarity she noticed the marks weren't just on his arm. Fingernail scratches ran down his cheeks and neck, and across his shoulders. Blood had dried around his nails. She seethed inside at Jennifer.

"She's here, Katie," Desai said softly from the door. "Do you need more time to calm down before we meet with her? It took me a good half hour to lose the desire to strangle." Dr. Desai was a lean man in his late forties. His thick black hair was just beginning to gray by his temples. The gray stood out against his russet skin.

"Never been more ready," she said, forcing a smile.

The night nurse sat across from two empty chairs waiting for her inevitable punishment. She burrowed her hands in her sweatshirt pockets and stared at her sneakers.

"Why did you give him a second dose," Desai asked in a measured tone. She hadn't noticed them come in.

She wiped her tear stained cheek. "He said he wasn't given his medicine." She began to weep.

"Jenny, take a breath. We need to figure this out and you need to stay calm."

"He was very insistent. He said he- he said he…he would have night terrors and he didn't want that."

"Why didn't you get in touch with the doctor on call."

Jennifer was silent.

"A night of terrors is better than an overdose. He's lucky he isn't comatose," Katie stared at the sniffling girl. "_You're_ lucky he isn't comatose."

"But he said he wasn't given his meds."

"And you trusted him?" Katie began to raise her voice, but Desai placed a hand on her shoulder.

"These men are here in part because they can't be responsible for themselves," Desai explained to Jennifer. "We need to trust each other and the careful notes we take, not the patients."

There was a long pause before Jennifer said quietly, "I'm so, so sorry. I'll never do it again."

"You're on probation," Desai said softly. "Someone else will be assigned to your shift and you'll help in sickbay for the next week. Afterwards, you will remain on probation for two months. You'll have your shift back, but any serious mistakes and we will have to suspend you from the position."

Jennifer breathed a long sigh through her nose. She wasn't fired.

"You need to trust yourself. Don't let these guys push you around."

Jennifer nodded. "Thank you so much. Thank you, both of you, so, so much."

"Your first shift in sickbay starts at 7 tonight. Go home and get some sleep and return then."

Desai left the room, but Katie stayed seated across from Jennifer. "This is a not a place for the weak. You need to decide if you're strong enough to be an Arkham employee. You still have a job because _we_ think you're strong enough. But if you don't think you are, then you need to consider other employment." Katie placed a hand on Jennifer's knee. "Do you think you can do this?"

The girl nodded and smiled.

"Good," Katie said, patting the girl's knee, then leaving her alone again with the empty chairs.

------------

Crane opened his heavy lids and saw Katie sitting by his bed. The reinforced window in his small room revealed the sun falling across the Narrows.

"Shouldn't you be home heating up some pad thai and watching Jeapordy?" Crane croaked.

"I should, but one of my patients decided to overdose. Can you believe that?"

"He didn't _decide_ to overdose, the little nurse allowed him to."

"Why did you do this, Dr. Crane?"

Crane was quiet as his lids drooped, reopening just as slowly. "I wanted to see if you'd be here when I woke up." He licked his dry lips in order to smile.

Katie rolled her eyes.

"And here you are. See? You were playing by my rules and you didn't even know it."

"Don't tell me you did this to mess with my head," Katie said with disgust. "That's a copout."

"Is it?" His eyes opened wide. "There's no other reason."

"There's another reason."

"What, then?"

"I don't know, but I'll figure it out."

Crane slid his limp hand between the bars of his hospital bed and rested it on her skirted thigh.

"Take your hand off me," Katie said through gritted teeth. "Now, before I make you."

His smile broadened and he retracted his hand slowly, letting his fingers slide down her thigh and over her knee. "Why haven't you handed me over to someone else yet?"

"Why? So you can do this to them?"

Crane's eyes became heavy again. "I wouldn't do this to someone else."

"Why me, then?"

Crane breathed in and out slowly, making great effort to open his eyes. "Because…you're…" he smiled, breathing in. "You're pretty Katie Saunders, the teacher's pet." The overhead lights were off and the single lamp by his bed illuminated his eyes. "_My _pet."

His face turned away from Katie as he drifted to sleep.

Katie gathered her coat and walked slowly out of the room and to the parking lot. She drove home absently, swearing at the curb that jumped out in front of her. She parked crooked and made her way up to her apartment. Katie's building was an old, stately home miles away from the Narrows. Her apartment was small but cozy, with new steel kitchen appliances, large, old windows, and wood floors. She ignored the flashing light on the phone and tumbled onto her bed, falling asleep in her gray skirt and green camisole.

------------

Jennifer reported for duty that evening with renewed energy. Working sickbay wouldn't be so bad. There were always other staff members around, and most of them were friendly and funny. They were happy to have her on board as well. Her personality matched her sweet exterior; she was hard to dislike.

"You're checking IV's until 10," the head nurse on duty informed her. "If you have any questions – anything at all – do not hesitate to ask me or someone else for help."

"Yes, of course," she nodded.

The nurse handed her a clipboard and returned to her station. Jennifer made her way around the large, octagonal sickbay, checking each patient. A friend flashed a smile as they passed, also relieved Jennifer wasn't fired.

She reached 73A and looked down at the clipboard. Maybe she shouldn't check this patient, she thought.

"Madeline?" She said to the head nurse. "I'm sorry, but would you mind…"

The nurse looked at her chart. "Oh, of course not, honey. I'll take care of it."

Jennifer walked to the water cooler as the nurse approached Crane's room. She felt so guilty for allowing Crane to end up in this state.

The nurse returned quickly, grabbing the microphone to the PA system. "Lockdown, all floors, all wings." Red bulbs lit around sickbay. Inmates throughout Arkham shielded their ears to the alarm's drone as guards began securing all exits.

"Wha-what…" Jennifer tried to ask.

"He's gone," the nurse said.

"Oh my God, are you kidding?" Jennifer shrieked.

"I wish I was," she said, picking up the phone and dialing Desai's extension.

------------

"There's no trace," Dr. Desai told Katie over the phone.

"Please, please tell me you're joking," Katie said, rubbing her eyes and looking at the digital clock by her bed.

"We're on full lockdown and alert, there's no way he could have escaped the grounds."

"But who knows how long he was gone before the nurse noticed."

"No, no. That's the thing of it. She looked at Crane's monitor before she approached the room. During the time it took to walk _from_ the desk _to_ his room, he was gone."

Katie sighed, "Ok, then he's somewhere inside."

"Yes, but he knows this building inside and out. This isn't just any inmate getting loose."

"Should I come now?"

"No, get some rest and come in early. I'll call you if anything changes."

"I don't know that I'll rest now, but I'll try." She fumbled for the phone's off button and stared at her ceiling. You idiot, she told herself. And you thought you were making progress. She stumbled out of bed and slipped out of the skirt and shirt. She found last night's attractive hospital pants and tank top combo, then settled back into bed. The effort was useless.

------------

"This is not your fault, Jenny," Dr. Desai said, placing both hands on Jennifer's shoulders.

"It is, it is! It's all my fault! I got him sick!"

"We already addressed that. His escape is not your fault." Desai squeezed Jennifer's shoulders. "You've been through enough today. Go home. I'll call down to the gate and give clearance."

Jennifer nodded and hugged the doctor. She sniffled all the way to the parking lot. She punched her fist on the steering wheel. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she shouted inside the quiet vehicle.

"They'll get him, Jenny," a guard at the gate said. "Don't worry."

"Ok, thanks," she muttered.

"You have a good night."

The gate parted and Jennifer left Arkham, happy to have an evening of peace.

She turned the radio on and pressed the buttons twenty times before stopping on an Oldies station. She sang along to keep herself distracted, almost forgetting to stop at a red light.

"Oops, that would have been bad," she said out loud.

"Well, not as bad as this," a voice said behind her. Before she could scream, a needle dug into her shoulder. Her head flopped onto the steering wheel, honking the horn. The noise ricocheted across the empty street. The light turned green and cast a neon glow across her face.

"Thanks for the car, though."

------------

Jennifer woke up at 1am on the sidewalk, shaken to consciousness by a young police officer.

"Too much to drink, little lady?"

She reached to her shoulder and rubbed the small welt. "No. I don't know. Someone carjacked me."

"A mosquito?" the officer asked, examining the welt.

"Someone with a needle," she said. Then she gasped. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" she repeated.

"What, what?" the officer asked with concern.

Jennifer hyperventilated and stared off in the direction the car likely went. There's no way I'm keeping my job now, she thought.

------------

Katie's eyes were puffy when she arrived at Arkham at two in the morning, still in her pajamas, her work attire slung over her arm. Desai called when Jennifer alerted him to the carjacking. They would wait to alert the media later in the morning. For now, they hoped the police (and more realistically, Batman) would find Crane before he disappeared completely. Katie finally brightened around 4 in the morning. She tapped Desai on the shoulder.

"He doesn't have his meds," she smiled.

Desai thought for a moment. "What do you think he'll do?"

"Well, they're not exactly over-the-counter or of any interest to dealers, so I can't imagine he'll find a dose somewhere. By the time he misses two or three, we'll find him."

"And he hadn't received them this evening yet, either."

"Perfect," Katie said. He would be too exhausted to drive very far, she hoped, and they would find him within city limits.

Katie found her way to the staff cafeteria and sat at a table in the corner, inattentively eating corn flakes and watching the news on an overhanging television. Katie shared everyone else's desire to find Crane, but her reasoning caused the flakes to flip in her stomach. She pushed the bowl away and laid her head on the table. "Grow up," she groaned quietly.

She closed her eyes and remembered a day five years earlier when she ran in to Crane at a coffee shop. He was stirring some milk into his coffee, holding his scarf back so it wouldn't fall in when she approached the shelf with the condiments. He looked up, recognizing her instantly. His face beamed.

"How is life after college?" Crane asked, adjusting his glasses.

Katie's mitted hands strangled the coffee cup, caught off guard by how excited he was to see her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her soft purple hat framed her face.

"No life after college, I'm in grad school now. Same school, but all evening classes, so I haven't seen you."

"I see. Well, it's nice to see you now."

"You too," she said softly. "Do you have a moment?" She motioned to a small, round, empty table.

"I don't," he said, looking into her eyes. "I honestly don't. But I wouldn't hate running into you again."

"No, me either, Dr. Crane."

He regained some of his professional composure when she said his name. _Student_, he told himself. But _former_ student, another part of his brain reminded. Shut up, brain.

They smiled at each other.

"So…" Katie nodded.

"I have to go."

"Oh, right. Ok, well…"

"You know where my office is."

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Right, then. Don't be a stranger."

She watched him walk down the street from the coffee shop window.

A week later she stopped by his office. He wasn't there, so she pinned a note to the bulletin board on his door. He read it five minutes later when he returned from the washroom.

"Sorry I missed you. I've been missing you for a while. I'm in the student directory. I wouldn't hate running into you again, especially on purpose. –K.S."

He smiled at the note, savoring the carefully jotted letters on the scrap of white lined paper. He never looked her up, however, because shortly after he would be dismissed from his position. When she eventually heard of the dismissal, she was upset, but at least it explained why he hadn't called.

------------

"Here you are!" a colleague gasped.

Katie lifted her head off the table, startled.

"Press conference started ten minutes ago in the Corbett room."

"What time is it?" Katie yawned while following the woman.

"Six."

The two women slid into the room between wall-to-wall reporters.

"…we are still at the beginning stages of reforming Arkham," said Paul Annino, the Arkham spokesperson. Desai stood to his left and Lieutenant Gordon to his right. "Our best and brightest are on the job, but the task is enormous. There have been vast improvements in the short window of opportunity we have had so far, and we recognize there is a long road ahead."

The room erupted until Annino pointed. "Johnson," he said.

"What about the car?"

Annino stepped aside for Gordon. "Crane is very ill, and thankfully it impaired his driving. We're currently inspecting the car."

"Where did Crane go?"

"He's on foot, but he caused more than a fender bender. Wherever he is, he's sick and hurt."

Annino pointed again. "Kerry."

"Where was the car?"

"Inside Gotham-proper," Gordon said.

"Do you have any idea where he might go?"

"We have ideas. We're exploring them as we speak, and now we have daylight to help."

"We have time for one last question. Thompson," Annino said.

"What is Batman doing about this?"

Gordan out looked across the forest of lights and cameras. "What he always does. He's on it, too."

"Thank you, everyone," Annino said, addressing the crowd.

Desai passed Katie on his way out with Gordan. "Where _do_ you think he went?" she asked quietly.

"Probably somewhere to find medication and aid, like you guessed. Thank God he was too sick to drive well."

Katie remembered the little yellow car from the game room. Apparently keeping a car on the road wasn't Crane's specialty.

"Can I do anything?" she asked, following them to an emergency exit.

"Now it's bigger than you and me. Just take care of yourself, that's all I ask."

She waved as the men disappeared inside a police cruiser.

------------

Katie stood in the doorway of 73A, looking past the yellow police tape. "You can come in," a detective told her. The same detective questioned her earlier, as he did numerous other employees who interacted with Crane.

Katie ducked under the tape and approached the older man. "How do you think he got out?"

The man gestured his white-gloved hand to a large, missing ceiling tile. "It's a drop ceiling. There's easily enough room to scurry around up there if you know what you're doing. Not for the average nut," the detective jotted a note and looked up at Katie, "but we're not dealing with your average nut here."

Katie looked at the ceiling. He was right, it was lower than normal.

"Why would they install this type of ceiling?"

"This building is older than dirt. The kind of electricity, ventilation, heating, cooling, and plumbing you need nowadays didn't exist. You see this kind of thing in lots of old buildings – restaurants and stuff. Schools, houses."

"But you can't see up there."

"He probably didn't need to." The detective closed his notebook and tossed his latex gloves in the trash. "Thanks again for your assistance. I'm sure it'll help us bag this guy."

Katie followed the squat man back under the tape. "You're welcome," she said without enthusiasm.

------------

By 7pm Katie couldn't keep her head off her shoulder. She was able to meet with her patients by sitting on a chair outside their cell door, speaking to them through the low slot. No inmate could leave his cell for any reason. Those in sickbay were tethered to their beds with restraints, even minor offenders. "He just keeps on messing this place up," a guard muttered to Katie.

There was no news on Crane's whereabouts throughout the day despite continuous coverage on TV and radio. Desai never called with news. At 9pm Katie received a ride home from a colleague who lived on her block. "Have a good weekend, Katie," the woman called through the car window. Katie's head bobbed as she meandered up the walkway, the front stoop, and the stairs to her apartment. She failed to get the key in the door four times before success, then smacked the wall three times before giving up on lights.

She jabbed the button on the answering machine. She threw her work clothes at the hamper and changed into a long t-shirt as the messages played.

"Hey, sis. I'm sitting here watching the news and hoping you're ok. Call if you can, but I understand if you can't. BEEP."

"Katie! I called your cell but I think it died. Oh my god! Do you ever see that guy when you're around Arkham? How totally creepy. I'm creeped out. How did he get out? I'm in need of gossip, here, girl! Call me! BEEP."

"It's Eric. Nothing that exciting ever happens at _my_ workplace, you brat. Hope you're ok. BEEP."

"Hey, Katie. It's Amanda, just checking in. Call or email me and let me know you're alright over there. Don't stress too much. BEEP."

"Katie, this is Samantha calling on behalf of Dr. Lewis' office. You missed your chiropractic appointment tonight, but we saw the news so we won't charge it. Just call to reschedule whenever you're ready. BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP."

Katie stuck her tongue out at the machine and wandered to the kitchen, still feeling her way around the apartment. She grabbed the refrigerator door handle and jerked it until it finally opened. She bent down and poked around take-out boxes on each shelf. "Where are you, vanilla pudding?"

"Right here, cupcake."

Katie spun around. In the sliver of fridge light she saw two fierce, narrowed blue orbs glaring down at her.

"What the fuck, Crane!" she shouted, instantly wide-awake.

"Always the lady. By the way, I love the outfit. I think you forgot the bottom portion, though." He breathed deeply after finishing his comment.

The two were cast in a fluorescent white glow. Katie reached for the wooden block of knives.

"That is so cliché, grabbing for a knife. You're intelligent enough to know that if you do," Crane breathed deeply again, "I'll retaliate, and it will be a _lot_ worse than whatever you'll find on that counter. Put your hands in front of you."

Katie froze, her hand inches from the block.

"In the amount of time it takes your hand to make it to a knife, you'll be on the ground. Put your hands in front of you. Don't force me to make a mess on this sparkling floor."

Katie retracted her hand slightly from the block.

"That's it, Katie," Crane's breathing was becoming shallow now. "I just need to see your hands so I know I can trust you not to try anything silly. You know I won't hurt you."

"I don't know that," she managed to say. Her voice faltered but remained firm.

"I didn't come here to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" She was shouting again, holding back tears. Her breath quickened.

"I need your help."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because it's your job. And you _care_ about your patients." Crane took a small step towards her.

"No!" she yelled with venom. "Back the fuck away!"

"Yikes," he said quietly. "This little situation seems to have brought out the best in you."

Katie was very aware of her state of undress and lack of anything resembling weaponry. She felt like a baby bird abandoned in its nest.

"You just need to calmly and slowly put your hands in front of you. I'm not going to hurt you, but I can't let you wield a knife, either."

Katie stayed put.

"Katie," Crane said softly, taking a step backward.

She bent her arms at the elbows and held her hands in front of her shoulders, palms out.

Crane flicked the light switch on the wall at arm's length. Katie closed her eyes as her hands fell to her sides.

"Jesus, Crane," she sighed, opening her eyes. "You need to get to a hospital, I can't help you."

Crane held onto the counter with one hand for support. The scratches from earlier were dwarfed by a still bleeding gash in his forearm. A diagonal welt across his forehead wasn't bleeding through his skin and instead caused a large, deep purple circle around his left eye. His other hand was clutched over a blood-soaked hip. He licked a trickle of blood from a cut in his bottom lip.

"Don't be stupid. I won't go to a hospital. This is nothing I can't fix with a little assistance." He was shaking.

"I can't be your assistant in this."

Crane's head hung but his eyes looked up at her. "On the very first day we were reacquainted, you said you wouldn't prosecute or judge me. Your sole purpose was to help your patients."

"It's pretty obvious I shouldn't need to add the caveat, '…but I won't help you escape'."

She wanted to hold him up, but she looked at the floor instead.

"I don't care what you tell them. Tell them I forced you. Tell them I had a gun."

"It sounded like you had a gun a moment ago."

"I was bluffing." Crane swallowed and shut his eyes.

"Are you hearing voices, too?" she asked, looking back to him.

Crane lifted his head, "I haven't had my medication in a day."

Katie stood in silence for a moment, hearing the clock click away the seconds.

"And if I were to help you, what would you do next? Where do you think you would go?"

Crane's voice found its intensity again. "I was sentenced to forty years without parole. Wherever I go, it's not back to Arkham."

Katie sighed. "Why did you choose to escape now? You were sick to begin with."

"Because I figured, given the overdose, I would be in sickbay for at least several days. They planned to send me back to my cell this morning. Obviously I wouldn't be able to get extra pills again. It was now or never."

Katie didn't speak. The silence lasted more than a minute.

"Just…otherwise I rot in Arkham for the next four decades. I trespassed against law and order, but I don't deserve a near life sentence."

Katie rubbed the top of her bare left foot against the back of her right calve. The silence weighted on her chest.

"Katie," Crane said, leaning harder on the counter, "I would sooner let myself die than go back to Arkham. The choice is yours."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Yay! You're still here!

Disclaimer: I own everything about Batman. Psych! No I don't.

---

Katie watched Crane support himself against the counter. His hand trembled, slipping periodically. Helping this man risked her career, but not helping him went against her ethics as a doctor for the criminally insane. And, regardless, it was Crane. She would do almost anything for him, even the broken shell of a Crane that stood in her galley kitchen.

"I would never let you die," Katie said, as if disappointed that she couldn't. "I'll help you as best I can with your wounds. That's it. Then you have to get out of here."

"Ok," Crane was alert now, but still shaking. "I need you to get your first aid kit and your sewing kit. I assume you have both. I'll make my way to your couch."

"My couch is cream colored. Can't we do this in the bathroom?"

Crane looked at Katie for a moment. He took a step from the counter and grabbed the wall just in time to stop himself from tumbling into her "dining room", which was just a smaller area between the kitchen and living room with enough room for a petite table. He used the table for support, and used other pieces of furniture to reach the couch. He crawled across it and lay on his back. Katie watched his voyage, then dragged her feet to the linen closet.

"Now what?" She stood over him with a kit in each hand, a hip cocked to the side.

"Pull up a chair."

Katie carried a dining room chair over to where Crane lay. She sat by his stomach with her left side against his right. Crane laid his injured arm across her bare lap. Her skin was smooth and soft against his arm, and he visibly shivered at the touch. Katie interpreted the shiver as a symptom of his current state.

Katie leaned over Crane and flicked on the lamp by the couch.

Crane swallowed hard. "Have you stitched anything before?"

"Do drapes count?"

"All you have to do is stitch diagonally one way, then back down in the other direction."

"This is so unsanitary. I shouldn't do this, you could lose your arm."

Crane used his free arm to pull a small spool from the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. "No it isn't. Use this. Heat up the needle with a flame, put on the latex gloves from the kit, and presto; I'm fixed."

Katie held the spool between her thumb and pointer finger. "How did you get this?"

"When a nurse escorted me to the sickbay bathroom. It was shamefully easy."

"You anticipated needing stitches?"

"I did." In order to access the parking lot from his escape route, Crane knew he would have to break a small window and pull himself through. The gash on his arm came from that, not the car accident.

"When you're done with that, turn me towards you and do the same to my side."

"Turn yourself towards me, you're capable."

"I won't be," Crane said, grabbing a syringe from the same place he had the spool.

"That is officially the last thing you pull out of your underwear this evening, or I'm calling this off."

Crane smiled despite himself.

"You got that from the same place, I suppose?"

"They were both on a cart waiting for another patient. Add it to the list of problems with your new Arkham."

Crane popped the protective plastic cap off the syringe with his thumb.

"This is surreal," Katie murmured.

"If you want surreal, you should witness the horror show going on in my head."

"You're going to wind up with a Frankenstein scar if I do this."

Crane shot Katie a face that said, "Do I look like I care?" better than any words could.

Katie took the syringe from Crane. She shook her head at the gash and made no move to sedate him.

"You're really going to do this, aren't you?" Crane said. His voice was raspy and sounded far away.

"Of course I am," Katie said flatly. "Like you said, I care about my patients. I care too much."

"No Katie," Crane said, licking the cut in his lip absently. "You don't care for me in the same way you care for your _other_ patients."

Katie glared at him.

"Touchy subject?" Crane said, his eyebrows raised.

Without warning, Katie speared Crane's shoulder with the syringe. He squeaked but smiled.

"That's why I like you," he whispered. His eyelids shut slowly like the closing curtain at a play and the smile faded from his blood stained lips.

Katie moistened a sterile pad with antibacterial solution and gently wiped the wound, replacing the bloody marks with yellow streaks. She saw a doctor friend suture a wound once. A drunk driver sideswiped their car. Though they weren't injured, the drunk driver was. None of them had cell phones and pay phones were out of walking distance, so Katie's friend used his emergency kit to sewed up the wound in the back of the driver's head, holding him until an ambulance came. Nothing about that memory was helpful for Katie, but it was the closest experience she had.

She sterilized a curved needle and grimaced as she pierced Crane's skin. The wound was four inches long and it took Katie a half hour to make her way up and back. It didn't look so bad, but she had never been so nauseas in her life. Then she remembered his hip.

She put her hands between the back of the couch and his thigh and upper arm. She grunted as she pulled him onto his side, facing her. She used the chair to support his freshly stitched arm and fetched another chair for herself.

With her fingertip, she gently pushed a stray hair away from Crane's purple and yellow eye. She couldn't help pitying him. He was truly lost without her at this moment. This made her both happy and sad at once, and the fact that it made her happy at all made it somehow worse.

She turned to his hip. His pants and the bottom of his white t-shirt were still damp with blood. She took a deep breath and slid his shirt to his bottom rib. No wound there. Damn, she thought, this makes it more complicated.

She tried to pull the side of his pants over his hip, but nothing budged. She undid the button above the zipper and tried again. Nothing. She unzipped his pants an inch and tried again. Still nothing. Another inch, and still nothing. Here we go then, she thought, and unzipped it the whole way. She slid two fingertips between the waistband of his underwear and pulled down an inch at his hip.

"Where the hell is your stupid wound," she mumbled.

After pulling down another two inches she found the source of the blood, a horizontal wound roughly the same size as the one on his arm. She tugged on his pants until any more tugging would have revealed too much, but just enough to access the gash.

She soaked another pad with solution and started cleaning the blood up by his waist. She slid the pad down his side and over the hill of his hip. Blood had spread all the way to his belly button. She looked up at his face, peaceful in dreamless sleep. She wanted to crawl between him and the couch and fall asleep, too.

Focusing back to the task on hand, she sewed his hip as she had his arm, but in only fifteen minutes. As she sat back and admired her handiwork it dawned on her. If he moved, it could split. And his pants certainly weren't going back over the wound for a little while. Great, she thought. Just great.

----

Crane awoke two hours later. He couldn't see out of one of his eyes. He reached up and pulled a post-it note off the eye.

"Don't move," it read.

He attempted to call for Katie but the sedative still robbed him of his words. He didn't need to speak, though, because she was asleep on the floor below him. He balled the note up in his free hand and aimed, using all his might to throw the ball at her face. It bounced off her cheek but didn't faze her.

Crane looked at his arm. Not too bad, he thought. He strained to see his hip but couldn't.

The phone rang. Katie opened her eyes and raised herself to her elbow.

Crane grunted at her and shook his head "no".

"I have to answer the phone."

"No," Crane finally protested.

"I always answer in case of emergency. You never know when a con will escape."

Katie retrieved the cordless phone from the cradle.

"Hello?"

"Hi Katie," it was Desai. "Sorry to bother you on a Friday night. Am I disturbing anything?"

Katie looked at Crane lying on her couch.

"Nope. Nothing."

"Stevens is having an episode like he did last month. He responds to you best. If I'm not disturbing anything, then I would like you to come in."

"Sure. Just give me forty five minutes."

Crane narrowed his eyes at her.

"Thanks, Katie. I'll give you a day off soon for this."

"No you won't, but that's ok."

Desai chuckled. "See you soon, then."

"I'm going to Arkham, but I'll be back in a couple hours. And no, I won't tell them you're here."

Crane finally found his voice. "Fine. But while you're there you can do me a favor that will get me out of here faster."

"No way, I've done enough favors this evening to last several lifetimes." She began walking to her bedroom.

"Go in the drawer that has my possessions from intake. All I need is a key from the ring in there. It looks different from all the others. That, and some medication would be nice."

Katie closed the door to her bedroom and changed into jeans and a green long sleeve t-shirt. She called a friend for a ride, since her car was still back at Arkham, and left the apartment without saying goodbye.

Katie arrived at Arkham only thirty-five minutes after hanging up with Desai. Her patient had become so problematic that they sedated him, and so her presence was no longer needed. Desai needn't apologize – these things happened.

"Still no sign of Crane," he told Katie as he walked with her through the halls. "He might not have made it."

"What do you mean?"

Desai stopped walking. "They think he might be dead."

Katie looked away from him. "Why would they think that?"

"I suppose that's where their evidence is leading them. I'm practically out of the loop now. I'm sorry, though. You did what you could with him."

Katie nodded and walked towards another hall. "I'll see you Sunday," she said to Desai.

Desai watched her walk away, feeling badly that she likely lost her patient.

Katie let herself into the intake wing. The first thing new patients saw upon arrival (assuming they weren't taken through an emergency entrance) was intake. There were no measures to truly improve the process. Men had to hand over what little personal belongings they had on them and say goodbye for months, years, or forever. Some of the boxes waiting for inmates to reclaim them were older than Katie's mother. Out of all the sad things Katie encountered at Arkham, intake was one of the worst.

The boxes were locked in drawers not alphabetized, but ordered by the prisoner's number. Katie brought Crane's box over to an adjacent stainless steel counter. Watch, belt, shoes, and the key ring. On the very top sat Crane's glasses. Katie turned them over in her hand, contemplating momentarily before putting them in her purse. She quickly discovered the key Crane asked for. It was longer than the rest with a square blue head. She put it in her pocket. She thought better of it at first, but then opened his wallet. Why shouldn't she, she thought, after all he had done to her?

License (goofy picture, she noted), Arkham ID (took the humor away from the license), a credit card, and fifty dollars. She put the items on the counter as she removed them. Between two membership cards to psychology fellowship organizations Katie found a folded piece of paper. The edges were worn. She unfolded it carefully.

"Sorry I missed you…"

Her dimples grew into full smile.

She put the note in her purse and everything else in the box. She left the empty wing and walked to her car with a bounce in her stride.

---

Katie handed Crane two pills and a glass of water. He scowled as the cold glass touched his wounded lip.

She returned twenty minutes later with coffee for him.

"Have they kicked in?"

He nodded, looking up at her from the same position on the couch.

"Are you hungry?"

Crane shook his head slowly. He attempted to roll onto his back and winched in pain.

"I put the note on your eye for a reason. You need to stay just like that until tomorrow morning at least, then we'll see what you can handle."

Katie's couch was L-shaped. She belly flopped onto the other leg of the couch.

Crane lifted his chin to look at her.

"So what does the key open?" she asked, a small grin playing on her face.

"The door to my freedom, that's all you need to know."

Katie unfolded the note and held it in front of Crane's face. "You've been carrying this with you for half a decade. Do you know what that means?"

"You tell me, Sherlock Saunders."

Katie mimicked Crane's facial ticks and low voice. "It means you don't care for me in the same way you care for your _other_ doctors."

Crane took the note from Katie. "No it does not. It means I haven't cleaned my wallet in a while."

"Oh for the love of God," Katie mocked, rolling onto her back.

"What happens when they find out the good doctor stole my prescription from the asylum?"

"Nothing, because they won't."

"How do you figure? Don't you think they'll investigate every purchase or theft of that particular medication until they exhaust their search for me?"

"I'm sure they will."

"You are the most irritating person I have ever met."

"They won't find out because I didn't steal or buy them."

Crane blinked.

"I take them, too."

"Why?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

Katie rolled back over and rested her chin on her hands.

"Similar reason. Like I've told you before, not just anybody is attracted to our line of work."

"When did it start?"

"Childhood. Doesn't it always? After years of trauma it manifested as a defense mechanism. I heard voices and had obsessive-compulsive disorder. My brother's manifested into kleptomania. To each his own."

Crane noticed a picture over Katie's head on the wall behind the couch. It was Katie and a male Katie.

"But once we moved in with my grandmother, things started looking up. That's also when I started the medication."

"Moved in with your grandmother? Where are your parents?"

"Mom lives about an hour south of here."

"And your father?" Crane was intently watching Katie's face.

"Dead."

"Is that where some of the problems started?"

Katie rolled onto her side, her face at the same level as Crane's. "That's where most of the problems ended."

Crane continued looking at her face as she examined her fingernails.

"So you still need medication?" he asked at last.

"Once in a blue moon. I haven't taken it in months. When I need more, I just tell my doctor and he writes another prescription. But don't start getting ideas. He'd be suspicious if I suddenly asked for your dosage."

"Why didn't you turn me in?" Crane asked, his voice deep and tired, but interested in her answer.

"It would be selfish."

"Oh?" he said, yawning.

"If I turned you in, you'd be back in Arkham. I could keep you there and see you four days a week, probably more after all this. And…you couldn't leave… couldn't leave me."

She looked up from her hand, but he was already asleep.

Katie made her way to the bedroom and looked back at Crane. Whatever she felt wasn't reciprocated, and if it was…well, what's the point, she thought. There is no happily-ever-after with a crazy man who shows up in your kitchen after escaping an asylum. Any possible outcome would just break her heart. He needed to leave tomorrow before she invested anything else in his well-being. Likely nothing could make this man well, not even Katie.

---

Crane woke up just as the sun began to touch the treetops. Katie's bedroom door was shut. He tried to swing his feet to the ground, but even the attempt was too painful. Instead he inched his way to the corner of the "L" couch and sat up. Sitting didn't hurt too much. There was an end table slightly taller than the couch just behind it. On it sat the lamp Katie had switched on the night before, but other than that the top was covered with picture frames of all sizes and colors. He grabbed the picture closest to him and examined it.

The woman was presumably Katie's mother, with a very small Katie and Katie's brother on her lap. Katie looked a great deal like her mother, except that her mother was even thinner, had shorter, curly hair, piercing green eyes and olive skin. It was as if someone had adjusted the color on Katie. Little Katie looked remarkably like Katie now, though she had much longer and lighter hair and, obviously, smaller proportions. Her eyes were even bigger. And the brother looked like Katie, too, but with the mother's olive skin and green eyes.

He replaced the picture and grabbed another. This one was of Katie recently. She seemed very excited about the beer she was holding and the man with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder. Crane thought this man looked like everything he wasn't; physically strong, tall, and tan, with close-cropped dark hair and large, dark eyes. The guy looked just as happy about Katie as she was about him. Crane didn't like this picture.

He put it back and took another. This one was of Katie and a female friend flanking either side of a scruffy guy with a guitar. The women had passes around their necks and were exploding with glee. This one bothered Crane far less. The fourth picture he grabbed was of Katie's brother. It was a black and white picture of him laughing, seated at the dinner table. There were other pictures of friends and presumably family, but the picture of Katie and the tan man bothered Crane. Who was he and why was he touching her?

Katie's alarm buzzed. A minute later she shut herself into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The unwanted instant visual of Katie showering flashed through Crane's mind. Any significant positive feelings towards her would hinder his plan. He reminded himself of the things that bothered him about her over and over until she finished that retched shower.

Katie's phone rang as she emerged from the bathroom. Holding a light blue towel around herself with one hand, she plucked the cordless phone from its cradle across the living room from Crane. She turned her back to him. He looked away from her slicked back wet hair and damp skin. So much skin. He poked his bruised eye to disrupt the thought process.

"Hey," she said, standing over him. "Think you can clean the stitches yourself?" Without waiting for a response she put ointment, Q-tips, gauze, and tape on his lap. "Wrap your arm when you leave. You don't want an infection."

"I can't leave today," he said in disbelief, not looking directly at her. "I can't even get off your couch."

"I did what I told you I'd do. I don't want you here when I come home." Katie returned to her bedroom before her voice contradicted her words.

Now Crane didn't have to try very hard to think about how much she bothered him.

Ten minutes later Katie breezed to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed for the door.

"Katie, I want to leave as much as you want me to, but it can't happen today."

Katie faced him from the door, his tired eyes barely visible over the back of the couch. "It's my birthday. People will come over even if I tell them not to. Leave today, or explain yourself to them when they arrive." She opened the door.

"I'm not leaving today. You're lucky I'm letting you go out."

Katie felt ill. She shut the door and approached the back of the couch. "You really are delusional," she said, her chin quivering. "I'm lucky you're _letting_ me go out? What upper hand do you have? If anyone's lucky, it's you." She twisted her hands on the water bottle. "Listen, Crane, I have a job, friends, a family…I can't risk that to help you. I shouldn't have done as much as I did. You put yourself in this position and you can get yourself out. I can't believe I let it get this far."

Crane smirked. "You've been carrying a torch for me for _years_, you wouldn't put it out now just because I escaped and came to you for help. Face it, Katie, you _love_ that I came here. You love that I need your help."

Her eyes overflowed but her words were still angry. "I didn't invite you - why did _you_ come, huh? I'm obviously not the only one feeling something…ugh, god…screw you. You're a horrible man," she growled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Perhaps you're a glutton for punishment. Replacing your abusive father with an abusive love interest."

Katie looked up from her sleeve, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched. She stood there for a moment before storming around the couch.

"Get. Out. _Now_," she said through her teeth. The words came from somewhere deep inside her stomach. They were gritty and sounded coated in bile.

Crane stayed put, but wasn't quite sure what to make of her response. He expected tears, but what came out of her mouth.

"You aren't the criminal mastermind you think you are. Do you wanna know what you _are_?"

"What am I, Katie?" He tried to sound smug.

"You're pathetic. You used your fear toxin to conduct your little experiments, but you weren't bright enough to explore an antidote for yourself. Your career lead you to the head of an institution before you were thirty, and you wound up strapped to a chair inside it. Then you were let loose, only to wind up right back in a cell after someone _tazered _you. And now you're here, at my mercy, and not giving me a single concrete reason _not_ to push you out the window." She sobbed after the last sentence. She was so disgusted that her words were true. "You…were…brilliant," she said between tearful gasps. "You…inspired me. I never…forgot about you because…be…cause…" she couldn't finish. She remained standing, crying with arms crossed.

Crane rolled his head to the table of pictures. He held the one of Katie and the tan man out to her. "What about him? Why am I so important when someone like _this_ is in your life?"

Katie snatched the picture from Crane and turned it around to face him. "That's my friend Casey. He had a heart condition and wasn't supposed to live to graduate high school, and this was his graduation from college. You'll be happy to know he's dead now, though."

She meant to throw the picture at the section of couch next to Crane, but a corner of the frame landed directly on the wound in his forearm. He immediately held the arm against his chest with the other hand, trying to stifle moans of distress. He looked up at her with large, pained eyes, astonished she would do that to him.

"I didn't mean to do that," she said, the words running together as if one single word. She kneeled beside him and took his arm in her hand. "Let me see it," she said quietly.

Several of the stitches were torn. She rested her elbow on the couch and hid her face in her hand, still holding his arm in the other.

Crane breathed deeply to control the pain. He regained some composure and slid his arm out of her hand. She turned her face to him and put her hands in her lap.

"I know you didn't mean it. I didn't mean to upset you so much." Crane's words lacked emotion.

Katie nodded. "Yes you did. Yes you did. You wouldn't have said what you said if you didn't want to hurt me. Contrary to what you would like to believe, I am not your pet. I'm a strong woman and a good person, and I refuse to let you diminish me until I forget that about myself. You _were_ a good person. I mourn that person, because whatever you are now is far removed."

Katie pulled herself to her feet and picked her purse up from the floor by the door. She walked back to Crane.

"Put these back on," she said, handing him his glasses. "Take a good look at yourself. I hope you'll be as disappointed as I am."

Katie left the apartment. Crane heard her car door shut and the little engine start up. He looked at the glasses in his hand, the still lit lamp reflecting off the lenses. He slid them on. The apartment slowly came into focus.

Crane bared the pain to stumble his way to the bathroom. He held himself up against Katie's white pedestal sink and shut the medicine cabinet so he could look in the mirror. He was surprised by the black eye and red welt across his forehead. His skin was almost the color of paper and the red scratches from his overdose episode were still quite visible. With Katie out of the apartment, he could admit some of it to himself. He had been sloppy. But that didn't mean he was at her mercy. That phrase crawled under his skin. At her mercy. She'll see what mercy is, he telepathically told his reflection.

TBC

Author's note: She'll totally see what mercy is in the next chapter – oh boy!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Wooo!

WARNING – A lil' violent.

Disclaimer: Crane is mine before I fall asleep at night, other than that he and everything else about Batman isn't.

---

Katie drove on autopilot to Abuelitas, a large Mexican restaurant in the heart of Gotham. Since her sophomore year at Gotham U she met her friends for birthday brunch at the same place. To Katie, nothing celebrated a birthday better than an omelet smothered in salsa. This year she didn't particularly care to join her friends, but it would be a little suspicious if she backed out. She waited in her car around the corner from the restaurant until it was less obvious that she had been crying.

Katie's friend Amanda greeted her at the restaurant's flamboyant entrance. "Birthday girl! I hadn't heard from you in days, I was worried you wouldn't be here. I called your apartment this morning and you didn't answer – I guess it meant you were on your way."

"I would never miss a date with you guys."

The women linked arms and Amanda guided Katie to their awaiting table. Four other friends of Katie's were already seated. They popped out of their chairs and greeted Katie with open arms and small presents. It felt good to be close to so many people she trusted.

"You look a little distracted," her friend Emma commented as they reviewed the oversized menus.

Katie shrugged. "A little, but it'll pass," she lied.

"What's on your mind?" her friend Leslie asked playfully.

"Nothin'," she shrugged again, hiding her face with a menu.

Amanda tugged the menu down. "Is it a guy?"

Katie laughed. "Actually, kind of, yes. But it's not quite what you think."

The women exchanged glances.

"So what _is_ it, then, you secretive minx?"

"Who calls someone a minx anymore?" Katie asked, closing her menu as the waitress approached. They placed their orders and dug into the complimentary tortilla chips and salsa.

"Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean we're letting you off easy," Emma teased. "So spill it."

Katie thought for a second. "Well, I really don't want to say too much. But there's this guy," the women all leaned towards Katie, "and I really, _really, really_ shouldn't like him. Really. But I do, and I need to stop. Seriously."

"What's so wrong with him?"

"He's insane."

The women laughed.

"Katie, everyone's insane in your book. There's something wrong with every guy."

"No, trust me. I shouldn't like him. You'd be horrified if you knew him."

"You can't always choose who you like or expect your friends to like him, too," her friend Melissa said with her mouth full. "Does he like you?"

"Uhh… if he does, he has a funny way of showing it."

"Men," three of them said in unison.

"There's no future with us – at all – and it's bumming me out a little. Ok, a lot. The fact that I'd even _consider_ a future with him is the worst part. So that's what's on my mind, that's all. It's not a big deal."

"Hey," Leslie interjected. "What happened with that escaped crazy guy at your hospital?"

Katie blushed and played with the lime on her water glass. "I'm not sure."

"Did you ever see him around the asylum?"

"He was my patient," she said, looking up to make brief eye contact. The women looked at each other again and collectively decided not to push the subject.

"Why don't you open your presents while we're waiting?"

Katie obliged, unwrapping a pair of silver hoop earrings, a dome shaped silver ring, a bookstore gift certificate, a pretty green scarf with matching mittens, and a brunette doctor Barbie doll with "Arkham" written in permanent marker on the white jacket. Katie put on the jewelry and scarf and placed the gift card between the Barbie's arms. She sat the doll by her water glass.

"You're awesome, ladies," she said, forgetting about Crane momentarily.

The women chatted during the hour-long meal, discussing movies, music, significant others, and so on, never bothering Katie again about the mystery man or escapee. Amanda walked Katie to her car after they paid the bill.

"So everything's alright, right?" Amanda asked, digging her hands into the pockets of her fitted denim jacket.

Katie looked at her feet as they walked. "No, it's not. But I can't really say anything."

The two women stood by Katie's car. "You can trust me with anything, you know that, right?"

"Yes, that's why you're my best friend."

"So trust me now. What's up? You're clearly disturbed about something."

Katie shook her head. "I _will_ tell you, but I can't right now."

The wind blew Amanda's blonde bangs into her eyes. She tucked them back behind her ear and examined Katie's face. "Well…when you _can_ tell me, please do. I'll worry about you, Kay."

Katie feigned a smile. "Oh," she remembered, "you can do me a favor, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she said, holding her bangs back as the wind picked up.

"Pass the word around that I don't want people stopping by my place today. I'll meet you guys tonight for the show but I'd just prefer no company beforehand."

Amanda frowned, confused and concerned.

"Would you do that for me?"

"Yeah, I will," Amanda said halfheartedly.

Katie hugged her and climbed into her car. "You're a great friend!" she called before shutting the door.

Amanda waved. Then why can't I figure out what's wrong, she thought.

Katie ran as many errands as she could think of before returning to her apartment: bank, post office, drug store, supermarket, gas station, and bookstore (to spend the certificate). She pulled into her parking space and looked up at the apartment's windows. Though she knew it wasn't rational, she hoped he was still in there.

Things were quiet from the door of the apartment. She turned her key and entered cautiously. He wasn't in the living room. Or the kitchen. Or the bathroom. She opened her bedroom door a crack, then the whole way. No Crane.

She sat on the edge of her bed and turned on the TV, flipping the channels until she realized she passed them all twice. She turned it off and walked around the apartment again, checking the closets, the shower, and under the bed.

Out of sheer exhaustion she fell asleep, barely remembering to set the alarm for 5:00pm. She would wake up at five to make herself a little more presentable, eat a quick dinner, and head to the club where one of her favorite local bands was playing that evening.

She woke up just before the alarm, still not relieved by Crane's absence. She left the apartment an hour and a half later in a curve-hugging boat neck black sweater, dark jeans, and gray leather boots. And, of course, her new earrings and ring – even though they clashed with her everyday gold locket. She pulled her hair into a ponytail on her way to the car. The weather was unusually warm and she forwent the jacket.

Twenty friends and acquaintances joined Katie for the show. She pretended to enjoy herself but was obviously distracted.

Amanda followed Katie into the club's gigantic, industrial bathroom. They paired up at a mirror and Katie watched Amanda fix her lipstick and eyeliner.

"Kay, why did you come in here? Just to stand around?" Amanda asked Katie's reflection.

"Eh. I just needed a break."

"A break from fun?" Amanda asked, sliding her makeup back into her jacket pocket.

"I'm sneaking out after the last song."

"The encore is always the best song."

"Yeah, I'm tired though. It's ok, Mandy."

Amanda gently stopped Katie from leaving the bathroom. "No, it's not ok."

Katie patted Amanda's arm and walked away. During the last few songs she made her way around the group to say goodbye, flashed Amanda a large, reassuring smile, and sprinted to her car. Being around people was the last thing she wanted.

Her cell phone rang as she climbed the stairs to her apartment.

"Yell-o?"

"I don't want to be the parent here, but I'm just telling you I'm coming over tomorrow, like it or not."

"Ok, fine," she said sarcastically. "I guess I'll just have to suffer." Away from the crowd she was feeling a little better.

"G'night, weirdo."

Katie hung up and smiled, thinking about how truly nice her friends were. She should have been more fun that evening.

She tossed her purse onto the couch and walked to the bedroom. The door was closed. She hadn't closed it on her way out. Resting her ear on the door, she listened. Silence. A stroll around the apartment revealed nothing else out of place. She returned to the bedroom and twisted the knob, tapping the door open with her foot and backing away. This is ridiculous, she told herself.

She stepped into the bedroom and flipped the light switch, but the light didn't turn on. She flipped it a few more times as if it would help. She tried the hallway light, which turned on, and then fetched a light bulb from the linen closet.

She made sure the switch was turned back to "off" and untwisted the bulb from the metal bedside lamp. When the new bulb was in place, she flicked the switch back to "on", but it still didn't light up. She tightened the bulb and it finally lit, spreading 75 watts across the small violet bedroom.

Katie turned with the dead bulb and walked towards the trash, but the trip was cut short.

Something hard and blunt hit the back of her knees.

Between the surprise of the blow and the bulb in her hand, she fell without her arms in front of her. On the way down her forehead met the corner of her bureau and she crumpled onto her knees. She reached up to touch her forehead, but her hand was embedded with glass and covered in blood. Her attempt to pick herself up was in vain – the room was spinning too fast.

"Who is at the mercy of whom now, Doctor Saunders?" a soft mellow voice said over her shoulder.

Katie managed to twist so her back was against the bureau. Her legs slid out in front of her and she sunk further to the floor.

"Now don't look so upset. You brought that on yourself. You just never learn that I'm always a step ahead."

Katie looked up at him, one eye closed to avoid the blood trickling from her forehead. "I hurt your feelings and you hurt me physically. That's more cowardice than anything."

Crane's hands balled into fists by his sides. He took a breath and unclenched his hands. "You tried to throw me out this morning, but unfortunately for us both, I still need some assistance."

Katie shuddered, absorbing the pain in favor of crying.

"We're going to go on a little trip, you and I. Think of yourself as my chauffer."

"I'm not doing anything for you again." She tried to pick herself up again, but slid back to the floor.

"Please, please. You're embarrassing us both. Just listen to me and say nothing." Crane kneeled in front of her. "Now I still know a few unsavory characters in the Narrows who would be happy to do a big favor for relatively little money. I contacted them with all the free time I had today and told them to make sure I was in touch each evening by midnight. If they don't hear from me, they'll show up here looking, and you don't want to be here alone when the arrive."

Katie glared at Crane through the one eye.

"You don't look too concerned. That's quite all right. But," Crane smiled boyishly, his eyes gleaming in the soft bedroom light, "you need to be careful, because it's not just about you. If they come here looking for you and you're not here, they'll pay your little nurse friend a visit." Crane took Jennifer's license from his pocket and held it in his palm for Katie to see. "Additionally, your friend Amanda called the apartment, at least according to your caller I.D. I passed that phone number on to them as well."

Katie's expression remained fierce even as Crane swam in the blurry room around her.

"Are you scared yet?"

Katie shook her head.

"Don't worry, you will be."

Crane left the room and returned with the same materials Katie had used to tenderly clean his wounds only nights before. He placed them between her splayed, booted feet. "Clean yourself up. We should leave shortly."

Katie kicked the bottle at him.

"Ok, fine," Crane said, exasperated. "I'll do it."

Crane kneeled next to Katie and took her hand. The light bulb had done more damage than he thought. He pulled a shard out and Katie instinctively ripped her hand away. Crane yanked it back by the wrist and pulled more pieces out, holding tightly to her. Katie kept her lips closed, but it didn't do much to hide her suffering. Crane's smug smile grew with each groan.

"It would make more sense if we moved you to the bathroom to wash this out," Crane said, more to himself than to Katie. "Up we go," he chimed, putting his hands under Katie's arms. She struggled but made it to her feet.

"I don't need your help," she said, shooing him away as she guided herself across the hall by the walls. She was careful not to put the injured hand against them.

She plopped onto the closed toilet and leaned over to the sink, but quickly lost her balance and hit her head on it. Crane pulled her to the tub and leaned her over the side. Katie sucked air through her teeth as the running water stung her open wounds.

Crane wiped Katie's face with a washcloth. He was far less careful than she had been with him.

"You didn't need to do this to me."

"I guess not. But I feel better now."

"Well good, that's what matters." Katie noticed Crane was wearing a pair of her brother's pants that she had set aside to donate with her other unneeded items. He had on her largest long sleeve t-shirt, but it was still a little on the fitted side for him. "You look girly in that shirt."

Crane pushed the washcloth hard against her forehead.

"See? You can only match brains with brawn. I'm disappointed."

"Make a decision, am I brawny or am I girly?"

"If I had to decide, I would say more girly. Definitely. You're very pretty. I'm jealous in fact."

Crane quickly wrapped Katie's hand with gauze. "Please enlighten me; what amount of damage do I have to inflict before you stop the quips?"

"I'll quip 'til I'm dead. But you wouldn't have the guts for that."

"You think not?" Crane asked, pulling her back to the bedroom.

"No way. That's not your style."

Crane flung Katie onto the bed and she landed on her back. Her legs dangled off the side.

"You're a terrible flirt!" she called as he left the room again. With him gone she allowed herself to shed a few tears. She was getting scared.

"I went to the trouble of packing a few things you might need. I also took the liberty to pack a few for myself."

"Better shirts, I hope."

"Clothing is the least of my concerns at the moment." Crane sifted through Katie's closet for a few extra items.

"You know," she said, lifting herself to her elbows, "you're awfully mobile this evening."

"I guess I'm just inspired. By the way, I hope you had a lovely birthday."

"I would have invited you along but, well, you know how things are."

"This can be our own little private celebration then. Ready to go?"

Katie's face became serious. "I won't tell anyone you left. I haven't told anyone so far. Go without me. Whatever you need or want, take it and go."

"I need and want you," Crane said while stuffing a few more things into a bag.

"You _want_ me, huh?"

"Oh just _shut up_, would you? I'm exhausted."

Katie resisted his attempt to pull her to her feet.

"You need to cooperate, Katie. It's nearly midnight, and if we don't make our way to your car soon, _I _won't make the necessary phone call."

"You're bluffing again."

Crane's grip tightened around her arms. She looked into his eyes and decided he might not be bluffing.

"Ok," she said softly. Tears trickled down her cheek in spite of her best efforts.

She could walk on her own finally and followed Crane to the door.

"Will I be back tomorrow?"

Crane looked back at Katie. Pitiful, he thought. "Doubtful."

It was late and not even a cricket chirped around Katie's building. The crunch of their steps on the pebble parking area was almost deafening.

"You're sure you need my help?" Katie asked as they reached the car.

"Get in," he ordered, tossing her duffle bag into the back seat. "You're driving."

"Damned if I'd let you operate my vehicle anyway." Katie's sarcasm was the only thing bringing her any comfort at the moment. She could tell it still bothered him. "Where to, Mac?"

"The highway."

"Highway 10, 90, 76…?"

"South on the closest highway."

Katie turned the key and the car coughed to life. She was sure the entire city could hear it. "So you basically have no idea where we're going."

"I know perfectly well." Crane was beginning to show his annoyance.

Katie pulled out of the mansion parking lot and onto her tree-lined street. Her heart was in her throat.

Crane settled into his seat and ran his finger across the dashboard. "You're extremely clean."

"Just a hint; that's a really bizarre compliment. Don't try that out when you're picking up chicks."

"Thank you for the advice. I am constantly picking up _chicks_," Crane said, looking out the window to avoid any further conversation.

They rode in silence until Katie merged onto the unoccupied freeway.

"And now?"

"Now you drive until I tell you to exit."

"Give me an idea. Ten minutes? Twenty…?"

"An hour and fifteen minutes."

"Oh come on!" Katie shouted.

"Shh, shh, shh. I'm right next to you."

Katie slapped his head.

"What was that?"

"You're pissing me off. I'm not driving an hour. Hitch a ride after twenty minutes."

"Clearly you're still a little out of sorts and haven't fully taken in the entire situation." Crane removed his glasses and turned to face her. "Do what I tell you and you will come home eventually. _Don't_ do what you're asked, and a few people you know won't be there when you get back. Are we clear now?"

Katie squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.

"I will assume your silence means you understand," he said in a confident, high-pitched tone. He slid the glasses back over his nose.

Katie's mind raced. She was too foggy to think of a game plan and drive at the same time. With each passing exit she became more anxious. Her chest tightened in response.

Crane noticed her breathing quicken. "We obviously can't pull over so just keep yourself together a little while longer."

"You didn't make your phone call."

Crane fished Katie's cell phone from the void of her purse and dialed. After several second he said only "yes, all set" and hung up.

"Did you even call anybody?"

"Just. Drive."

"Oh, you know what? I have a friend who expects me to be home tomorrow. I should get back. She's already nervous about me – she might even call the cops."

"Nice try. _Now_ let's try being quiet for a while."

The quiet only made Katie more nervous. She turned the radio on, forgetting how loud it was from her drive home from the show.

Crane stabbed buttons with his finger until it finally shut off. "What in the world just happened? I think my ears popped."

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Anything but whatever that was."

"It's good music, it was just loud. Let's try again."

Katie turned the knob to the left before turning it on again. The familiar song relaxed her slightly.

"No, this is still dreadful." Crane turned it off again.

Katie turned it on. "Touch my radio again and I will break your finger. _I will break it_ _in half_, I swear to God."

"You're touchy about the oddest things."

"No psychoanalyzing and stop looking at me. Look forward or out of your window, leave my radio alone, and shut up. Shut up you girly ass and let me drive with _my_ music on."

"I pity the man who ever marries the likes of Katie Saunders."

Katie narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Right. You had such an obvious thing for me when I was your student. That was against the rules you know."

"I was the one with the obvious thing? Me? _Are_ you serious?"

"I said don't look at me."

"You were impossibly smitten."

"You're a big jerk."

"You're not denying it."

Katie giggled. "You know, I saw you looking once."

Crane's stomach clenched. "What?"

Katie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh totally. I picked up my backpack and you were _staring_. Down my shirt! Highly offensive."

"That never happened." Crane couldn't actually recall if it happened.

"Oh yes it did _so_. And you realized your little thing for me was obvious, which is why you stopped spending time with me outside of class. I'm not obtuse."

"Well you had googly little eyes for me, if I recall."

"So _you_ don't deny it!"

"I did deny it."

"Not the part where you stopped spending time with me because _you_ were so clearly taken."

"This is asinine. I would never have a 'thing' for a student."

"Well I'm not your student any_more_," Katie cooed.

Crane felt warm. He looked out his window as the trees and billboards whizzed past.

"Oh, take a joke, Crane. You're humorless."

Crane ignored her.

"At least I have the potential to marry someone," Katie said, still aggravated by the comment he made earlier. "You're a robot."

"How so?"

"You feel nothing anymore. Like a neutered cat or something."

"That's not true," Crane said with an annoyed, parental tone.

"No? Let me test you then." Katie reached over and palmed the inside of Crane's thigh.

"Stop that!" he shrieked, slapping her hand away.

Katie laughed so hard her eyes nearly shut. "_My_ pet," she mimicked.

"I don't like this conversation at all."

"Poor you," Katie purred, petting his cheek with the back of her hand.

"Stop touching me," Crane groaned, shrugging her off. "This is our exit. Take a left at the end."

"Did you use my razor to shave?" Katie asked as she took the off ramp.

"No more _talking_ tonight."

Katie brightened as she realized one more exit would have brought them near her mother's house. Hopefully they wouldn't stray too far from the off ramp and she could seek refuge from her mother.

After five minutes Crane told Katie to slow down and he examined the street signs.

"Glad to have your glasses back?"

"Shush. Ok, take this turn."

Katie frowned. This heavily wooded street lead to the small town's high school. When she was in high school her group of friends would meet up with students from this school and gather in the woods behind it.

Unbeknownst to Katie, this was the school Crane attended in his teens. He had grown up only a town away from her.

The school was a mile down the road and Crane directed Katie to park around back. It was a mid-twentieth century construction of cement, brick, and non-opening windows. She parked and left the car running.

"Turn it off. No sense in wasting fuel." He got out of the car and waited for Katie to join him.

"I'll wait here," she said, leaning against the front bumper. Crane placed a hand firmly on her back and pushed her towards the building. He slid the long, blue-headed key into the back door, unlocking it with a metallic clunk. No alarm sounded. He locked the door behind them and walked ahead of Katie towards a set of stairs. She noticed he was limping. Good, I hope your hip hurts, she thought.

Katie followed Crane down a wide set of concrete stairs. There was an exit at the landing, but they turned and continued down. Only small, dim bulbs on the walls lit their path.

Crane stopped at a set of double doors and used the same key to unlock them. The white cinderblock wall next to the doors read "SOCIAL STUDIES" in human-sized orange lettering. Katie waited in the hall for Crane, and he did not encourage her to follow this time. He returned minutes later with a black box the size of a loaf of bread under his arm, and retraced their steps to the back door. The echo of their steps on the linoleum floor was the only sound.

"Alrighty then, we best be heading on back," Katie said as they got back in her little car. The unknown contents of the box made her even uneasier.

"Patience is a virtue, Katie, which you don't possess."

"Buddy, I've been consistently beyond patient with you. Now we go home." Katie drove away from the building.

Crane threw the car into "park" and it bucked to a sudden stop. Before Katie could react he had her jaw gripped in his right hand. Crane's eyes were wide and looked like two silver platters gleaming in the moonlight. He stared at her for a moment like that, the tendons in his next rigid.

"I am so sick of you," he said in a voice deeper than Katie ever imagined coming from his body. It rumbled in his chest. He looked back and forth between her left and right eye as he spoke. "I am _this _close," he shoved her head against the headrest to emphasize, "to wrapping my hand around your skinny neck instead of your jaw. You're a minor inconvenience in my escape, a trivial bump in the road. I would have no feelings of remorse dumping your body in these woods _right now_. Do what I say and keep your busy little mouth closed for the remainder of this journey, or you're woodland fertilizer. I don't want to hear one more nasty thing come from your lips." He shoved her again and let go.

"But I thought you _liked it_ when I said _nasty_ things."

Crane grabbed her injured hand and squeezed. She screamed and tried to pull it away, but his fury made him too strong.

"I am not _joking_!" he hissed in her face, crushing her hand harder.

In the tussle for her hand, Crane's sleeve climbed up his arm. Katie dug the nails of her other hand into his wound and tugged. Instead of retracting in pain, Crane reached over and opened her door, pushing her with all his might onto the unpaved road. He scrambled over the driver's seat and landed on top of her before she could crawl away. He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them over her head while his other hand constricted around her neck.

She stared at him with no emotion on her face. No tears, no resistance, and her body became slack.

"Please take my car and leave me here," she requested as calmly as if she were asking him to pick up some milk on his way home.

He wanted a fight. He wanted to take his wrath out on her.

"It's official, Crane, you won the game," she said, her lips smiling but her eyes cheerless and watery. "You're a sad, lost man and I don't need to be in the way while you crash and burn. Have my car and everything in it. Ultimately, it won't get you very far."

"Do _not _feel sorry for me," he ordered, moving the hand from her neck to her wrists. He jerked her wrists apart and pinned them on either side of her head.

Katie looked up at Crane's face looming just above hers. "I wished so much that I could help you… but your cruelty is no veneer; it runs in your veins now."

He didn't expect the concession. She was supposed to be scared. "_Why_ are you so calm?"

She laughed. "You have no idea what I've been through in my life. Pinned under an aggressor in the middle of nowhere is small potatoes. Plus I know you. You talk big and you have a little bite, but it's mostly show."

"Where do you get off talking to me like that?" He squeezed harder, breaking the blood vessels in her wrists.

"You're more scared of yourself than I'd ever be _of_ you. That's part of the reason."

"And the rest?"

"Because your anger with me is a self-preservation tactic."

"And what, pray tell, do I have to preserve myself from?"

"Non-robotic urges, Professor."

"I see nothing redeeming about _you_. You wasted your intelligence on a juvenile goal to save criminals from themselves. There is nothing more revolting then a spoiled brain."

"I'm not talking about my brains."

Crane pushed her wrists into the rocky soil. "I _certainly_ have no urges in _any other_ respect."

She whispered something he couldn't hear.

"Care to repeat that?" he said with frustration, lowering his ear to her mouth.

She licked her lips and held them lightly against his ear. Her warm breath sent a shiver down his spine. "You most _certainly _do."

Crane climbed off her like she was on fire and walked around to the passenger side. 

"Get in and let's go," he demanded, slamming his door.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

WARNING: Some language in a flashback to Crane's youth.

Disclaimer: We used to have bats in our attic. That's my closest association with anything Batman.

Author's note: I'm super curious what you think after reading this chapter. Please let me know!

---

Katie stared up as a thick cloud slid by the moon.

"There's no time to waste now, Katie. I have a strict schedule to keep and I can't have you compromising it."

Katie strained to lift herself without using her hands. "Crane, a few hours ago a light bulb shattered in my hand, and now my wrists are freshly bruised. I can't drive anymore tonight."

Crane jumped out of the car and yanked Katie up by her right arm.

"Jesus, you could've pulled it out of the socket!" she protested, stumbling away from him.

"You have my sincerest apologies. I'll drive."

Katie didn't feel strong enough for another tussle, so she followed his direction and joined him in her car. At almost the same moment she shut her door, the sky opened up.

The two looked out of the windshield as if the car were in motion. Katie saw him grimace out of the corner of her eye.

"Is the rain a problem?"

"I can't see well in the dark to begin with."

Crane started the car and slowly accelerated.

"Please don't crash."

"I will do my best."

"To crash?"

Crane wrung his hands on the wheel and glanced over at Katie. "If you want me to keep this car on the road, shut up."

"So noted. Can you just tell me where we're going?"

"I _can_, yes, technically. But I won't."

"Hey now, if you want me to reserve my comments you can't zing me." Katie held her hands up. "Damn, my wrists really hurt."

Crane smiled.

"May I talk if I'm not sarcastic?"

"I suppose. I might not answer though." Crane turned onto the main road and headed away from the direction they originally came.

"Why did you jump off me?"

"Because we don't have time for nonsense."

Crane's smile faded as Katie's grew. "Riiiight."

Katie turned on the radio.

"No music."

Katie found the FM news station. Minutes later she leaned forward and turned it up.

_Although the whereabouts of escaped mental patient and convicted felon Jonathan Crane are still unknown, officials assure Gotham residents that they are in no danger._

_In a statement issued late last evening by Gotham PD, 'We believe Crane's escape was for personal reasons and not to participate in another attack on Gotham. We also believe he is severely injured at the very least. Pursuit will remain in full force until we can confirm his whereabouts and apprehend him.'_

_If you have any information that could assist in this case, Gotham Police ask you to call 885-9911 immediately. In news abroad…_

Crane beamed.

"They said pursuit remains in full force."

"They won't waste time or tax dollars if they think I'm badly hurt or possibly dead. And harmless."

885-9911, Katie thought over and over.

"This is good," Crane said out loud, as if convincing himself.

"You _don't _sound so sure."

"I can't get too confident. I know they haven't given up hope completely."

"You're always too confident."

The rain was coming in sheets now.

"Pull over. I'll give it a shot."

"I'm fine."

With each passing moment they were further and further from Katie's hometown. "Seriously, I can drive just fine now. Look!" Katie pretended to turn a steering wheel left and right. She noticed a vein throb in his neck. "Alright, fine. But you can't blame me if you get us into an accident."

"We're almost there anyway."

Katie leaned back and watched the windshield wipers fly back and forth to little effect.

Crane wanted to get out of town as soon as possible even if Gotham PD wasn't hot on his trail. Being back in town conjured up memories he had worked hard to squash. As they passed the middle school he recalled a particularly nasty day from his youth. There had been many nasty days, perhaps even worse, but something about that one lingered.

---

"It's picture day, mom," Crane said while packing his books into his backpack.

"I know, but school pictures are overpriced and always unflattering. You and your sister can sit out." Crane looked a lot like his mother. Too much, if you asked him.

"Picture day at the high school is tomorrow," Crane's sister yelled from the bathroom. Crane could hear her hairsprayed bangs sizzle against the curling iron all the way from the kitchen.

"Everyone gets their picture taken."

"Well everyone's parents are fiscally irresponsible and enjoy ugly pictures of their children, then, honey."

Crane poured himself a bowl of cereal. "You're just saying that 'cuz we can't afford it."

"Not entirely, but your father just got his new job and it's commission. We have no idea what he could come home with yet."

"Pour me a bowl, too!"

Crane clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and got up to retrieve another bowl. "We have a field trip, too."

Crane's mother looked at the calendar on the fridge. "Museum. Nice."

"It's four bucks, that's all."

His mother handed him a ten-dollar bill.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

Crane's sister took her bowl from the table and leaned against the counter. She was thin like him and even taller, but that seemed to be a positive thing in her case.

"Jonnie, you can't wear that to school."

"He can wear what he wants, June," Crane's mother said as she washed last night's dinner pots and pans. June looked like her mother and brother, but with their father's red hair and green eyes.

"You're too old for a sweatshirt with a dinosaur on it."

Crane pulled his hood over his head and poked at his cereal.

"He's only twelve."

"He'll get teased mom," she said quietly.

"I get teased anyway!" Crane said, pushing himself from the table. He shut himself in his bedroom.

"Real nice, June."

"Mom, I'm trying to help him! You don't know what they do to him. He should do everything possible to stay under the radar. Eric told Kevin that Jonnie doesn't have a _single_ friend in his classes."

"Eric and Jonnie _are_ friends."

"Eric and Jonnie are friends when our families are together, not in school."

"It's just a dinosaur sweatshirt, June."

June handed her mother both bowls and kissed her cheek. "Not to sixth graders it's not." She knocked on the bedroom door. "I'll give you a ride if you don't mind being early."

A few seconds later Crane opened the door. "Yeah, okay." He had on a red and black sweater. He pushes his large glasses up his small nose with the back of his hand.

Crane was the first one at school, but he was happy not to have to endure the morning bus ride. He read while the empty classroom filled with chatty pre-teens, and promptly put his book away when the bell rang.

"Ok, kids, we have a full day. We're first for pictures so we can load the bus in time, so line up in alphabetical order against the back wall." Crane's teacher, Mr. Butler, was an intelligent, handsome man in his late twenties. Every student liked him, even Crane.

Crane approached the desk while the kids scrambled to find their place in line. "Mr. Butler?"

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"I'm not getting pictures this year."

"That's ok. They take your picture anyway."

"They do?"

Mr. Butler leaned down. "Between you, me, and the wall, people are suckers if they want to waste their money on school pictures. I always looked like an idiot in mine – and I never saw a school picture that looked any better. But, you know, they want to include people. So just go with it."

Crane smiled for the first time that day. He approached his place in line. He knew it well; right smack between obnoxious Brian Collins and snotty Ruth Crow.

"What are you so happy about?" Brian asked Crane, looking around to see if anyone else in line was paying attention.

The two boys behind him were. "Yeah, who wants a picture of Jon Crane?"

"Other homos," Brian answered.

Ruth laughed. "You guys are such assholes."

"Let's be quiet while we pass other classes," Mr. Butler ordered, leading the line, from the end of the alphabet, towards the auditorium.

Brian punched Crane's backpack while they walked. Crane narrowed his eyes at Brian over his shoulder.

"What? I'm practicing for my boxing lessons."

"You don't take boxing lessons," the boy behind Brian interjected.

"Well what if I decided to? I should practice just in case." He gave Crane's bag three more punches and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "So are you gonna give a picture to your boyfriend?"

Crane watched Ruth's ponytail bounce and ignored Brian.

Brian flicked Crane's ear.

"Cut it out!" he complained, rubbing his ear.

Brian flicked the other one. The boys' giggles encouraged him.

"Stop it!" Crane said looking back. He tripped and fell onto Ruth's backpack.

"Careful, dummy," she said over her shoulder.

"Are you putting the moves on Ruth, Jon?" a boy asked.

"Gays don't like girls, stupid," another said.

The laughs quieted as Mr. Butler approached the back of the line. "Is something going on back here?"

"No, sir, Mr. Butler," Brian said. "_Right_, Jon?"

Mr. Butler searched Crane's face, then Brian's. "Good, because you wouldn't be able to come on the fieldtrip and you would have to wait in the principal's office all day."

"No, everything's good, huh, Jon?"

Crane frowned but nodded.

They arrived at the auditorium and reversed the line. Another class showed up from the other direction and stood in back of them.

"You know, Jon, you have one good thing going for you," Brian said loud enough for his friends to hear.

"He does?"

"Yeah. His fucking sister!"

"Oh my god, she's _so _hot. She dropped you off today, huh?"

"_Totally_ hot."

Crane seethed.

"You ever watch the girls' Varsity volleyball games? I go just to watch her jump up and down."

"Hey, do you ever see her naked, Jon?"

"I wish I had a hot older sister."

"Dude, that's not cool. You don't want your own hot older sister. You want _Jon's_ hot older sister. I know I do."

"I'd fuck her."

"I'd fuck her!"

"I _have _fucked her!"

More people in line were listening now, and all of them laughed.

Ruth turned around and faced them. "Kerry said Annie said Jon's sister and her boyfriend had sex at the movie theater!"

"No way!" two said in unison.

"Yeah, Annie was there."

"I would give my allowance for a year to see that."

Ruth took her place on the stool in front of the photographer. Crane was next. The last thing he felt like doing was smiling.

Since Crane wasn't responding, the kids moved on to other topics. Crane sat blank faced on the stool and left as quickly as possible.

Outside of the auditorium two other boys, Mike and Seth, approached Crane. "Hey, we heard them teasing you. Not cool," Mike said.

Crane was wary. "I thought you guys were friends with them."

"Naw, we're just on the hockey team together."

"Ah." Crane stuck his thumbs under his backpack straps as they waited for the class to come back together in the lobby.

"Yeah," Seth began, "if you want to hang with us for field trip you can."

"Yeah," Mike agreed.

"Yeah?" Crane asked.

Both boys nodded.

"See ya on the bus," Mike said as the two boys joined another group of students. Crane's old friend Eric was among them.

Crane stood by himself and stared at the bus through the lobby window.

Mr. Butler joined him. "Are you looking forward to the museum?"

"Mmm hmm. I haven't been to this one."

"Oh, good! There's lots of stuff I'd like to point out for you."

Crane nodded.

"Alright, class," Mr. Butler said, clapping his hands. "We're movin' out."

Kids rushed to be the first ones on so that they could sit in the back. Crane always sat towards the front so he waited for the masses to get on board.

Seth motioned to Crane. "We're back here, Jon."

Crane stood in the isle, not sure if he should join them.

"Take a seat, everyone," the driver said.

"Come on, Jon," Mike said.

Crane walked slowly to the back. He had never been past the first few rows. Kids glanced at him, then looked at each other. Eric smiled from the seat on the opposite side from Mike and Seth.

The boys scooted in. Crane sunk into the seat and put his bag on his lap. The bus sputtered and vibrated, then rolled away from the middle school.

Mr. Butler kneeled backwards in a front seat and addressed the bus. "Here's how today works. When we get to the museum, _stay by the bus_ until you've been assigned to your chaperone. Your group will get its own tour guide and we'll…well, tour…until lunch. We'll meet back up in the museum cafeteria, then spend another hour with our guides. Stick together and keep your eye on one another. Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Butler," the bus responded.

The kids around Crane took walkmans out of their backpacks.

"Where's yours?" Seth asked Crane.

"I forgot it," he lied.

"Ok everyone, I need your help!" Ruth said from the seat in front of Crane. She leaned against the window and faced the back of the bus. "Give me an adjective."

"Hairy!"

Ruth scrawled onto the pad in her hands. Crane didn't understand the game.

"Ok, and a noun."

"Boner!"

"Another noun."

"Balls!"

"A verb."

"Fist!"

"That's not a verb."

"Yes it is!"

"Ewww! Ok, a famous man's name."

"Michael Jackson!" three kids yelled.

"A famous woman's name."

"Your momma!"

"A past tense verb."

"Banged!"

"A noun. Wait, though! Let's let Jon answer one."

Crane shrugged.

"Come on, you know what a noun is, right?" Ruth smacked her gum.

"Uhh… someone else can answer."

"Don't be retarded. Give me a noun."

Crane felt eyes on him. "I don't know."

"Just a little noun!" she looked down at the girl in her seat. "Maybe he's thinking too much about screwing his sister."

A few kids laughed.

"A noun, Jonnie-Jon," Ruth said.

"Ok, you made me think of one."

"What is it?"

Crane looked into her eyes. "Bitch."

Everyone laughed. Seth elbowed Crane.

"You're a jerk off!" Ruth retorted.

"You can't _be_ a jerk off," Eric said from the back. "That's a verb. You can't _be_ a verb. That's like saying, 'you're a running' or 'you're an eat'."

"You're an eat!" someone yelled at Ruth.

"You're a running!" she yelled back.

"Quiet back there," the bus driver warned. "And sit."

Ruth sat quickly.

Crane sat virtually ignored for the duration of the trip, which was fine with him. When they arrived at the museum in the heart of Gotham, Mike and Seth led him to Seth's much older brother, a chaperone.

Mr. Butler approached. "Jonathan?"

"Mike and Seth asked me to come with them."

"They did?" Mr. Butler asked. He looked at Mike and Seth. The boys shrugged. "Ok, then. Have fun, boys. Stick together."

As the class dispersed into smaller groups, Crane absorbed that he had actually been invited to join a group. His chest felt less heavy than usual. Their guide was an older man who was hard of hearing. Crane was torn between listening to the man and listening to the group, even the chaperone, making fun of the man. He didn't want to risk them noticing that he preferred the tour guide.

Mike and Seth stood on either side of Crane. They were the same height as him, but it felt like they towered above him.

"So Jon," Mike asked, "what do you do for fun?"

Crane tried to think of a good answer. "TV."

"What do you watch?"

Oops, Crane thought. "A lot of stuff. And I ride my bike and stuff."

"Do you skateboard?"

Crane nodded. Technically he had, when Eric brought one over.

"Know any tricks?"

Crane shrugged.

"Like any sports?" Seth asked.

"Yeah."

"Play any?"

"Not on teams."

"Well we play street hockey after school a lot. You should come over."

Crane laced his fingers together so the boys wouldn't see his hands shake.

"You want to come over?"

Crane shrugged. "Ok."

The tour guide stopped in front of the cafeteria. "I'll meet you boys back here. Enjoy your lunch!"

Crane and Seth's brother thanked the guide.

"Where are you going?" Mike asked him.

"Bathroom," Crane said.

"Ok. See you in there," Mike said, gesturing towards the cafeteria.

Crane stopped in the hallway around the corner. He was actually giddy. He stared at his fingers until they stopped trembling. When he felt he appeared less euphoric, he headed back.

The cafeteria was huge and filled with students from different schools. He looked across the room and finally saw Seth and Mike's table.

The closer he got, he realized all the seats were taken. He stood a few feet away.

Mike looked up at him from his seat. "What?"

"Uhm…I just thought there'd be a seat."

"Why?" Seth asked. Mike chewed his cheeks to hide his smile. The table hushed and everyone looked at the three boys.

"But…just a second ago you said-"

"I didn't say shit."

Crane's big eyes grew even wider in his small face. He squeezed his thumb with the other hand.

"Why are you standing there?"

Crane felt dizzy and hot. "You said 'see you in there'."

"And I see you. There you are."

A few girls giggled and covered their mouths.

Crane opened his mouth as if to speak but the words caught in his throat.

"Go away, homo," Seth said, waving Crane off. Mike snorted and turned away.

Everyone at the table stared at Crane, waiting for him to react. Except for Eric, who played with his sleeves and looked down.

It's ok, something deep inside Crane said, consoling. They'll get theirs someday.

---

Crane took several streets off the main road and pulled up to a small, secluded ranch style home.

"I'll be right back. Don't move." Crane took the black box, the keys, and Katie's purse. The soles of his shoes sank into the muddy road as he dashed to the modest home's front door. Katie couldn't make much out in the rain, but it didn't look like anyone had been home in a long time.

Crane was true to his word and came back within five minutes. He threw the items into the back seat before getting in. He combed his sopping wet hair away from his face with his fingers, then started the car.

Crane pressed the gas pedal, but the car stayed put. He pumped it several more times, the engine groaning in response.

"Stop, stop," Katie said, putting the car into park. She trudged through the mud to the back of the car. Crane joined her. "They're inches deep!" Katie yelled over the rain, patting the rear tire.

Crane's entire face contorted with his frown.

"We need to push it!" she said.

"I don't think either of us will do a very good job!" he shouted back, holding out his arm as evidence.

"Then we have to wait 'til the rain stops. If you keep trying it will get worse."

Crane ran his hand through his hair again. "I have to get away from here."

"Is anyone in there? We could just wait in there. It could let up soon."

As if in response, lightening stretched across the angry sky.

"No, we can't stay here." Crane climbed into the back seat and threw the box and Katie's purse into the duffle bag. He slipped the strap over his head and tightened it until it looked like a one-strapped backpack. "How far can you run?"

"You can't just leave my car here. Someone will report a car sitting in front of their house, don't you think?" Katie shivered and pulled her sleeves down.

"It will be fine here. No one will notice, trust me. You're a jogger, right?"

"If you're leaving my car here, what do you need with me?"

"Katie, if I could leave you here in the mud with your car I would. But I can't. Come along." Crane ran into the woods across the street and Katie ran after him. "I'm sure you're a better runner than me!" he shouted back to her. "Catch up!"

Katie was fatigued and in pain. She put her hand to her cramping side and caught up with Crane. "Now what?"

"Save your energy, it's a mile and a half."

Katie groaned and tightened her fists. Her boots were weighing her down. "Isn't your hip killing you?"

"Obviously, yes," he panted.

"You don't strike me as the physical type." Katie noticed the path they ran on was well worn.

"I'm a virtual he-man. Can you take the bag for a little while?"

Katie laughed and they slowed to a jog to trade the bag.

After half a mile Katie laughed again.

"What?"

"I just wish I could hate you. It would make things so much easier."

Crane nodded. "My sentiments exactly."

The woods cleared and they continued running through a field of tall grass and wild flowers. Crane slowed down at the top of a hill and Katie saw a low-roofed barn through the hazy rain. As they approached, Katie heard a horse whinny over the din of the storm.

"You can run, but can you ride horseback?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Crane unzipped the bag on Katie's back and removed the black box. He opened it behind her and took a key from its contents. With some effort, it opened the barn door. He disappeared into the unlit barn.

Katie stayed outside. Crane popped his head out. "_Stop_ making me ask you to come along!"

"I hate barns!"

"It's pouring! Come in here!"

Katie crossed her arms. "I hate them!"

"Have it your way," Crane said, his voice high and condescending. He slid inside again.

"We aren't staying here, are we?" she asked from the door.

"Just a few more minutes, Miss Patience. Go wait in the rain as you so desire."

Katie wandered over to a tree and leaned against its thick bark. She opened her mouth and let the rain hit the back of her tongue.

A large, brown creature emerged with Crane on its back.

"And now we're stealing horses," Katie said, approaching.

"Can you ride?"

"Absolutely not. I ride horses like you drive cars." Katie petted the horse's nose.

"Then come up here with me," Crane said, extending his hand.

"Uhh…no?"

Crane looked down his nose at her. "Scared?"

"No."

Crane raised his eyebrow.

"I'm not scared!"

"We stay in the barn, or you get on this horse."

"How do I get up there?"

Crane reached down and helped Katie get on. She slipped off four times before making it. She put a leg on either side and sat a foot away from Crane.

"And how to you think you're going to stay on over there?" Crane asked over his shoulder.

Katie shrugged.

"Hold on to me."

Katie inched closer and put a hand on each shoulder. Crane grabbed the reins and kicked the horse's side. Katie squealed and wrapped her arms around his ribcage, pulling herself against his back in the process. Crane's spine straightened involuntarily as he soaked in the power of the horse underneath him and the satisfaction that, at long last, Katie was defenseless.

Katie wrapped her arms even tighter and planted her chin in the crook of his neck. His ear was cold against her temple. The storm sounds were long gone, replaced by the horse's gallop. She squeezed her eyes shut as they hurtled further into the woods.

Crane made the horse go faster, fueled by the beat of Katie's racing heart against his back. She clung tighter.

"Not much of an equestrian, I see."

Katie was silent.

"And you're finally quiet. I wish I knew this would shut you up – I would have done it sooner."

"Please stop it," she said into his neck.

Crane's shoulders broadened.

"Can we slow down?"

Katie winced as Crane commanded the horse to speed up.

Crane could tell Katie was trying to hold back tears. A calm washed over his face and he breathed in deeply through his nose.

Katie opened her eyes but closed them again quickly. "Just slow down, please, Crane, slow down," she said into his ear.

That soft voice in his ear. His face because serious again.

"Please, please, please," she continued, her words pained.

Crane leaned his head away from her slightly.

Katie thought for a second and opened her eyes.

"Please," she said, bringing her mouth to his ear. She could feel his heart quicken against her arms.

Crane licked his lips and forced himself to focus on his course. She was quiet for a moment and he straightened his head.

Katie placed her mouth between Crane's neck and shoulder where her chin had been. She ran her tongue from the spot slowly up to his ear. She swallowed, tasting his sweat mixed with raindrops. "Please," she whispered.

The horse's gallop slowed.

Katie shifted her weight and licked the other side of his neck. "Please."

The horse slowed to a trot.

Katie kept one arm wrapped around Crane's torso and raised her hand to his face. She ran her finger across his bottom lip, down his chin, and down his throat. His eyelids drooped and he held his breath, the horse coming to a stop. Katie kissed the side of his neck. She let go of him and slipped off the horse.

"I have your stuff!" Katie teased from several feet away. She waved. "Come and get me!"

Crane jumped off and hastily secured the animal to a tree. Katie walked backwards a few steps, and ran off as he approached. "Stop making me ask you to come along!" she yelled.

"You don't know where you are. You may have the bag but I have the map of these woods in my head." Crane couldn't see where she went. A chill traveled down his legs as he recalled the warmth of her tongue. He took a few steps in the general direction of where he believed she went.

Two hands grabbed his waist from behind. "Boo!" Katie giggled.

"What do you want," Crane asked the smiling woman behind him.

Katie walked around and stood in front of him. "Just the very same thing I think you still want," she said, quoting his taunt from the Arkham game room. She took the bag off her back and placed it on the ground next to her. "Which one of us do you want more right now?"

Crane stepped towards Katie. He reached out and held the little locket between his thumb and index finger. He tugged lightly and she stepped towards him. He let the locket fall back to her chest and put his hands by his sides.

Either the marks on Crane's face had faded or the moonlight was doing him justice. Katie reached up and traced her finger across his jaw line. "You're a handsome man, you know," she said, taking back her finger. "And what do you think of me?" she asked cautiously after a moment. Her heart pattered against her ribs.

She watched Crane's eyes travel from hers slowly to her lips and back again. "I think you're going to make me very late."

"Besides that." She could feel her cheeks flush.

A bolt of lightening brighter than the sun overwhelmed Crane's eyes, and the accompanying thunder filled his ears. The horse whinnied and he jerked his head in its direction.

Katie grabbed either side of his face and Crane instinctively gasped. She slipped her tongue between his parted lips and prayed for him to respond in kind.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

WARNING: Too hot for TV.

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda Batman yadda not mine bleh.

---

Crane briefly forgot about the storm, his rush, his plan, and his pride. Every improper thought or daydream he had about Katie cut off precisely before just this sort of moment. Though he would never admit it, even to himself, the sneak attack kiss was sweet relief after so many unfinished fantasies.

He let Katie slide her tongue slowly against his, and without realizing he began kissing back. Katie's fingers left his cheeks and tangled into his drenched hair. She suddenly pulled her lips away, leaving him open mouthed with eyes closed.

"Is there anywhere around here where we can find some shelter?"

Crane blinked lazily as he thought. "Yes, but it's a barn."

"This will do then." She pulled his face to hers. Another bolt of lightening illuminated the woods. Thunder cracked immediately, vibrating the forest floor. "On second thought…"

Katie reluctantly let go of Crane, picked up the duffle bad, and followed him to the waiting horse. He climbed on and hoisted her up. Katie found her place against his back again and whispered, "Hurry!"

Crane was thankful the lightening held out just long enough for them to reach the nearby destination. He didn't know this horse, nor what it could do when spooked. This was partly why he didn't reprimand himself too harshly for giving in to his primal urges. After all, riding the rest of the way in lightening would be extremely dangerous, he thought.

He stopped in front of a large, two story barn and jumped to the ground. Katie stayed on and stared at the building. Crane put his hands up to her. "Let's go!" Katie frowned and allowed him help her off again, letting her hands linger in his as she reached the ground.

Crane led Katie and the horse into the unoccupied barn. She jumped when Crane closed the doors behind them.

Crane walked over to her slowly and licked his lips. "Remind me where we left off."

Katie looked at the barn's darkened corners. What light they had came only from a few cracks between planks in the ceiling and walls, and six small, soiled windows. "I don't know about this." She noticed his look of concern. "Oh, not about you. About this…place."

"Don't fret. There's no one here but you, me, and him," he pointed to the horse. "Maybe some mice."

"_Not_ funny."

Crane examined Katie's face as she observed the barn again. "Why are you so bothered?"

"It's stupid. And nothing. But you could make me feel better."

"And how might I do that?"

"Ask me to kiss you."

Crane raised an eyebrow. "What if I just kissed you _without _asking?"

"I don't know. Try and find out." Katie bit the side of her bottom lip and looked up at him.

"Is that your come hither look?"

"Is it working?"

Crane's face suddenly became serious. "Katie, you'd better not be doing all this as some stall tactic…"

"Crane, of course I'm not."

"And don't call me 'Crane'."

"What am I supposed to call you?"

Crane put his left middle finger through the belt loop on Katie's left hip, and his right finger through the other. He drew her towards him so that they were hip to hip. He looked into her eyes and slid his hands up to her waist. "I don't know, but I don't want you calling me by my last name right now."

"What about your first name?"

Crane made a face as if she had said something repulsive. "What do you usually call someone in this type of situation?"

Katie wondered if his question was supposed to sound so naïve. "Uhm…maybe 'oh god, oh god' or 'Yes! Yes! Yes!'"

Crane left one hand on Katie's waist and ran the fingertips of the other across the wide neck of her shirt. His eyes followed his fingers. "A shirt this soaking wet can't be very comfortable."

"There's a way to fix that."

Crane smiled and ran his fingers back in the other direction. "By all means, make yourself comfortable then."

Katie took Crane's hand and placed it back on her side. "Do it for me."

Crane willed his fingers not to tremble, and they were relatively compliant. He tugged from the bottom of Katie's shirt, and by the time it was above her shoulders there wasn't so much as a tremor in his hands. He tossed it over his shoulder and it landed with a quiet splat on the floor. He reached for her belt.

"Hang on there, cowboy. We're taking turns."

"Right," Crane said, unbuckling the leather belt. "You take all of your clothes off, then I'll remove mine."

"No way!" Katie wriggled out of Crane's grasp and reached for his shirt. Crane attempted to get a grip on her belt again, but she pulled away and jumped into the dark.

"Of all times for games, Katie, this is not one of them."

"Sure it is!" she shouted. He was surprised by how far away she was so quickly, and with so little sound. "I can see _you _but you can't see _me_. If you take your shirt off, I'll come out with my pants off. Promise."

Crane yanked his shirt over his head and threw it into the dark. His hair was wild and his face flushed, his skin almost glowing in the diffused moonlight. "Your turn."

Katie could tell, even from a distance, that his expression was changing. He looked more possessed than playful.

"You said turns. It's not nice to tease," he reminded her, wherever she was.

Katie's pants landed at Crane's feet, but Katie didn't join them. He looked in the direction they came from. "I'm not taking another turn until I see you."

He heard nothing but the storm outside. He ran his hands through his hair as his eyes wandered through the dark.

"Tag," Katie said, touching his shoulder from behind. "You're it."

Crane spun around and met Katie nose to nose. He grabbed her and pulled her to him, jamming his tongue into her mouth before she could take a breath. She let out muffled protest, but caught her breath through her nose and kissed him back. She realized giddily, holy crap, this is actually happening.

Crane's hands traveled down Katie's back and up again. He tugged on the clasp of her bra.

Katie broke his kiss, but his lips attached like magnets to her neck. She laughed and tried to remember what she was going to say. "Take your pants off first."

Crane looked her in the eye briefly before going for the other side of her neck. "No."

Katie made a vain attempt to get away from his lips. "N-nothing else until we're…we're, uhh…uhm, equally disrobed."

Crane looked her in the eye again and gritted his teeth. "No."

"Yes," she said firmly, pulling hard on the top of the fly of his pants. The button popped off and bounced into the dark.

Crane grabbed Katie's shoulders and pushed her against a stall that once housed an animal, but now stored a forgotten, overturned claw foot tub. He jerked his head back and looked down his nose at her. His face was in shadow, other than the light that reflected off his eyes and teeth.

The light came from behind him, and he could see Katie much better than she could see him. He drank it in – her tussled hair, lips swollen from fervent kisses, and bare feet on the dusty barn floor. He loved that he still had everything on but his shirt, and there she was in royal blue boy cut underwear and strapless bra.

Crane rubbed his lips together and smiled. "That was cute. But I'm not in the mood for cute."

"What _are_ you in the mood for?"

Crane tilted his face down slowly, a few wet hairs falling in front of his eyes. "I would rather show than tell."

Katie didn't appreciate being pushed against the stall, and the tone of his voice and gleam in his eye did nothing to make her feel better. This wasn't the man she had imagined herself in this scenario with (over and over for years), this was the man that greeted her from inside his Arkham cell.

"When you've thought of me," Katie said, trying to suppress this Crane, "is this how you pictured it? I'm all for rough housing, but it almost seems like you might _actually_ try and force me to do something."

Crane put his forehead against Katie's and shook his head. "Oh Katie, Katie. You're _such_ a silly thing." He rubbed his cheek against hers as he continued. "I do not turn you on _in spite_ of my wickedness. On the contrary," he ran a hand from her shoulder to her chest, "it's the devil in me that gets your blood flowing."

Katie leaned her head against the stall and enjoyed his roving hand. "What is it about me that gets _your_ blood flowing?"

Crane looked up from her body to her eyes. "You're very curious about that, aren't you?"

"I want to know what you think of me. I want to know what it is about me that makes you want my bra off so badly."

"Those are two very different questions, and it's not fair to lump them together like that," Crane began, pulling Katie against him to unhook her bra. "The first question has to do with what I think of you as a person," he finally got the clasp undone and slid the garment out between their bodies. He pressed himself against her and kissed her face and neck while he spoke. "The second question is about why I'm physically drawn to you. They're completely independent of one another."

"No they aren't," Katie said softly, unzipping his pants. "I'm a body and a brain, and you're attracted to the whole package."

Crane's pants fell to the ground, and he stepped out of them, along with his shoes. Katie rubbed a bare leg against his. "Well I suppose you're right," Crane said, shuddering as Katie ran her nails down his back. "I could answer both questions."

"Don't keep me in suspense."

Crane stopped kissing her momentarily to give his answer. "I think you're an extremely bright woman, and you're wasting your potential. The world is a dirty place, and no matter how hard you try, you'll never clean it up. People are bad by nature. That's why you can't rehabilitate them, Katie, because rehabilitation suggests they were good to start with. Everyone is inherently corrupt. You should learn not only to accept this, but," he kissed her lips for emphasis, "to exploit it."

"Huh?"

"Think about it," he said excitedly. "You're smarter than 99 percent of the population, you're charming, you're gorgeous. You could have all of Gotham eating out of the palm of your hand if you took the talent and effort you pour into a hopeless cause and turned it towards something _actually_ attainable."

"I still don't understand where you're going with this." She reveled in the fact that he called her smart and beautiful, not truly hearing the rest of his words.

Crane brought both hands to Katie's face and kissed her deeply, breathing in as he explored her mouth. Her moan made his lips tingle. He pulled back and put the tip of his nose on hers. "Forget about Arkham. The men in those cells aren't the real problem with society."

Katie didn't want to have this discussion. She wanted to melt with him into a puddle on the floor. "It's not like that, Cr…uhm…whatever I'm supposed to call you. There are plenty of good people and good causes."

"What is 'good' anyway, Katie?"

"Come on," she said, snapping the elastic of his boxer briefs. "We can talk about this later."

"You opened Pandora's box."

"And I'm sorry I did. Forget it for now, Cr…ugh, please tell me something to call you."

Crane knelt and pulled Katie's underwear down, helping her step out of them. He simultaneously removed his own while kissing his way back up her body. "Call me… 'oh god, oh god'."

---

(Author's note: The part missing between these breaks is the part that would make this an MA story. It's not _at all_ necessary to the plot; it's just me indulging my perviness. If you would like _not_ to leave it up to your own imagination, ask nicely and I might just share  .)

---

Katie lay on the barn floor and wrestled with her damp jeans to get them back on her body. Finally succeeding, she hopped to her feet.

"Did you hear that?" Crane whispered from the ground, still partaking in his own struggle.

Katie shook her head and looked around. "What?"

"Shh," Crane ordered, putting his finger to his lips. "Listen."

Katie cocked her head and listened. She looked down at Crane. "I don't hear anything."

Crane looked at the ceiling and rose slowly, zipping his buttonless pants. "You don't hear that?" Crane spun around as if the sound had moved across the barn.

"Maybe mice," Katie said apathetically. Please don't act crazy right now, she thought.

"Don't get sarcastic!" Crane hissed over his shoulder.

"Don't get weird!"

"There!" Crane said, rushing over to her. He pointed to the ceiling. "You don't hear it now?"

Katie looked into his anxious eyes. "I think maybe you should take your meds," she said carefully.

Crane ignored her, too fixated on the ceiling. "Let's go."

"It's still storming."

"You don't seem to have much of a problem with getting wet."

Katie looked at Crane with shock.

"What?"

"What was _that_ supposed to mean," she said, laughing.

"Only the lightening put you off earlier. The rain didn't seem to bother you."

Katie mouthed the word "oh" and closed her eyes.

"What did you think I meant?"

"Uhm, nothing. Let's go, then."

Crane followed her out of the barn, taking hold of the horse's reigns on the way.

Katie was several yards from the barn when she realized Crane was no longer behind her.

"Hey!" she called to the gaping barn doors. The horse trotted out of the barn, alone.

Katie's heart skipped. She took a few steps towards the barn.

"Crane?"

She heard a thump on the roof. She froze just outside of the barn. Another thump.

She shouted his name into the dark building, loud and crisp. "Crane!"

Crane lunged out of the barn at her, covering her mouth with his hand as they tumbled to the ground. "Shut up!" he whispered harshly.

Katie coughed into his hand, trying to capture the wind he knocked out of her body.

The thump was louder, and they both looked up in its direction.

"Who did you call?" Crane asked bitterly.

Katie pulled his hand off of her mouth. "How could I call anyone, you idiot?"

Crane licked his lips and looked up again.

Katie pushed him off of her and sat up. The thump was quieter again.

"So you hear it now, don't you," Crane said, sitting up as well.

"Maybe I'm having sexually transmitted delusions."

Crane was reminded of what they had done. It seemed like another daydream already.

"Let's get out of here. _Quietly_." He helped Katie to her feet.

"The bag!" she said as they mounted the horse.

Crane growled.

"I'll get it," Katie said, swinging both legs to the same side of the horse.

"No," Crane said, suspicious. "I'll do it."

Katie remembered how she felt standing at the barn doors, calling his name. "How about we go together?"

They stepped gingerly into the barn, searching the area where the horse had been.

"I don't see it." Katie said. She searched a moment longer, then turned around. "Crane?"

Not again, she thought.

"Crane," she whispered slightly louder. Dumb ass, she thought.

She walked to the center of the building slowly, the rubber soles of her boots padding against the floor.

"Crane," she whispered.

A hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, but it wasn't one of Crane's.

TBC

Author's note: Things have been cah-rae-zee and I didn't get this chapter out as quickly as the others. Sorry, babes! I'll be better this time.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Little known fact – I don't own the Batman franchise.

Author's note(s): Now with lemony fresh new title! It only took me 'til chapter 8 to name it something with a little more zest. What a bum, huh folks?

To fanfiction dot net readers: The scene removed from the previous chapter is posted on adultfanfiction dot net. Just sayin'.

The holidays sucked my soul and my time. I wanted to update sooner, I swear.

----

"What are you doing in here?" a grizzly voice spat in Katie's ear.

She grunted into his hand until he removed it. "How can I tell you when you're covering my mouth?"

He grabbed Katie's hair and pulled her head back. "Answer me!"

"I was just leaving, so let me go."

"Oh no, no, no. Nobody trespasses on my property and leaves the way they came." The man ran his hand across Katie's stomach. "_Especially_ pretty trespassers like you."

"Oh, gross!" Katie yelled, elbowing him hard in the stomach. "Tacky pervert," she muttered, getting the other elbow under his ribs. He swore at her as she twisted out of his grasp and ran for the door. Crane stood in the doorway.

"Get in that truck," Crane ordered, pointing to the nearby idling vehicle.

"There's a guy in here, and he-"

"I'm aware," Crane said, pulling her out with one hand, the other behind his back. "Stay out there!" he called to her.

Katie was alone for only a few seconds before she heard terrified screams. Crane ran out before she could run in. "I told you to get in there!" he yelled, panting. He pushed her towards the truck and ran for the driver's side, throwing the duffle bag into the narrow space behind the seat.

"What did you do?" she yelled as Crane climbed into the cab.

"Katie, _now_!"

The screams escalated, tearing through her despite the rain and distance. "I was defending myself!" she shrieked, cringing. "You didn't need to do…whatever you did. What did you do?"

"Don't get hysterical," Crane sighed. He looked down at her from the driver's seat. "We can't have someone calling the police about two trespassers, now can we?"

Katie backed away from the truck. "I won't be part of this."

"Once again, Katie, you demonstrate _exactly _how foolish you are. If you stay here, you will have to explain how you got here, and what you were doing here, why you didn't call for help when you had the chance, so on and so on. Plus there's the matter of the screaming, writhing gentleman who probably won't make it to see daybreak. You're better off if you come with me. Terrible thought, I know."

Katie wiped her nose on her sleeve. "What did you do to him?"

"Are we still on this? All that matters is that he got what was coming to him."

"For what? He's just some jerk who wanted us off his property."

"Trust me. That jerk has done plenty to deserve this pain." Crane remembered working summers with his sister mucking barns around the area, including this one. He also remembered observing the man standing a little too close to his sister, letting his hands linger on her a little too long, and ultimately, not taking them off despite her objections. She begged Crane not to tell anyone, and he regretted listening to her.

"You know him?"

"Well I knew where this barn was, didn't I?" Crane asked sarcastically, his hands gesturing erratically towards the building.

"So?"

Crane jumped down from the cab. "_So?_ Didn't you think, gee, maybe he's been here before?"

"Don't come near me," Katie whispered with disgust, almost tripping as she backed away. "I don't want any part of this sort of thing."

"Oh, please. You knew what I was capable of when you jumped on this roller coaster. Surely you didn't think you cured me."

"You forced me along."

"Well," he said, his tongue flicking at the end of the word, eyebrows raised, "After what we just did in there, I'd say you've buckled yourself in for the ride. You're here by your own will now, Katie. And you'll have plenty of time to absorb that fact, 'cause baby," he taunted, whispering, "we ain't slowing down _anytime _soon."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Crane."

"No use for prayer now, Katie, even when you do it so eloquently."

Katie ran past Crane to the truck and jumped in, reaching for the bag. She unzipped it hastily and probed for some evidence of what he had done. Crane wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to pull her out. She clung onto the headrest with one hand and kicked at him, still sifting through the bag with the other hand.

Katie's hand landed on something that stopped her cold. Crane let go as her kicking ceased. She hopped down and used the truck as support to back away from him, sliding her hand along it's cool, wet metal.

"What did you find, Katie?"

Katie continued stepping away slowly, keeping her eyes on him. Even her breath was shaking.

"You shouldn't have looked in that bag. Snooping often leads you to the very last thing you'd want to find," Crane said, taking a step towards her.

Katie couldn't catch her breath. She didn't notice when she reached the back of the truck and fell into the mud. She failed twice to stand up and finally crawled backwards, never breaking his gaze.

"Don't act so surprised."

Katie coughed, her breath caught in her chest.

Crane walked slowly to her, her anxiety rising with each footfall. By the time he stood over her she was gasping for air as if she had just been saved from drowning.

"What are you doing? Stop that."

Katie squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling into her hair. Her attempt to crawl away from him only succeeded in getting her muddier. She kicked and punched the ground and looked up at him once last time before passing out.

Crane froze. Katie's chest didn't rise or fall, and he stared at her until his brain reminded him of CPR. He fell to his knees and automatically performed the drill he'd been forced to practice yearly at Arkham. He slapped her face and called her name, screaming at her through his teeth. He finally sat back on his heels and tried to think of something else.

He looked at her unmoving face and would have felt ill if there was anything in his stomach. He reached out for her cheek but retracted his hand. He reached out again and brushed it with his fingertips.

Katie's eyelids flew open. Crane would have breathed a sigh of relief, but the look in her eyes was unsettling. She stared at him for several seconds, wide-eyed, unblinking, and still not breathing.

Crane put his thumb to her lips and parted them. She slowly opened her mouth and he took his hand back. She took a deep breath until her lungs could take no more and held it, looking at him the same way, her mouth still open. He hesitantly touched her face again. The moment his skin touched hers, she screamed.

It was a scream unlike Crane had ever heard, even in all his years working with the criminally insane. It was as if all the pain in the world were channeling through her, deafeningly loud. Its length outlasted the breath she took in, and she kept screaming, kept staring, until he clamped his hand over her mouth.

She stopped screaming and panted into his hand, finally blinking.

"Tell me that was all just an act for my benefit."

Katie lifted a heavy hand and pointed at the truck. "I need a pill."

"You need a wagon load," he said, still shaken. He retrieved the pill and helped her sit up.

Katie forced it down her throat. She let him hold her up and stared at the ground.

"So, is this something I get to look forward to on a regular basis?"

Katie shook her head. "Nothing like this has happened in years."

"When does it usually happen?"

"When people in my life are fucking assholes to me," she said, weakly punching his thigh.

Crane pushed Katie's hair away from her face. "I didn't tell you to look through that bag."

Katie grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, then placed his palm against her cheek. "How can you be so nice to me one second, then so terribly mean the next?" she said, her voice raspy.

Crane kissed each of her eyebrows, then the tip of her nose. "You ask too many questions. Hasn't this little incident taught you not to pry?"

Katie lay down in the mud and pulled Crane on top of her. He rubbed his face against hers and listened to her breathing.

"Did that upset you?"

"What do you think?"

"So you care about my well-being?"

Crane nibbled her bottom lip. "Too many questions."

Katie grabbed his face with newfound energy and held it nose to nose against hers. She looked into his eyes, another tear falling into her hair. "I love you, Crane," she whispered, smiling.

Crane breathed deeply through his nose, smelling the wet earth beneath them. The sun was just waking up and lit Katie's face enough for Crane to see her clearly. He wiped the mud from the cut in her forehead, thinking she looked so pale in the early morning light.

"I'm sorry you're here with me," he said, pulling a dead leaf from her hair. He climbed off her and helped her to her feet. She stumbled to the truck and climbed inside. Crane shut her door and went around to his side.

He zipped the bag and put it back behind his seat. "I'm sorry you saw that, too."

"Where are we going now?" Katie asked as Crane buckled her in.

"There's somewhere I want to stop on the way."

"On the way to where?"

Crane shook his head, "I guess I should get used to your incessant questioning if I'm going to keep you around."

"One good question, though. Why was that guy on the roof before he came into the barn? That doesn't make sense. He could have just waltzed right in from the start."

Crane looked in the review mirror as the barn fell out of view. "That is a good question, but I'm not going back to ask him."

"Do you think someone else was with him?"

"You'd think they would have intervened."

Katie watched the narrow road open to a sprawling field. "I guess you're right. Maybe we were both just being paranoid and no one was even on the roof."

"Me? Paranoid? Please."

Katie smiled and turned the heat on in the truck. "I don't suppose you packed some extra clothes for me. Mine are kind of soaked and muddy."

"No, sorry. You'll have to do without."

"Yes, being naked is the perfect alternative."

"Precisely."

"But seriously, will there be an opportunity for me to change soon? I'm shivering here."

"Yes."

Katie nodded and looked out of her window. "The sunrises are less impressive out here without the Gotham pollution. I forgot how different they looked."

"What do you mean you forgot?"

"Oh. Yeah, I grew up a town over from here."

Crane smiled. "When were you going to share that tidbit of information?"

"I wasn't until I just opened my big mouth."

"That mouth seems to get you into all kinds of trouble."

Katie took his hand from the wheel. "You don't always seem to mind," she said, licking his index finger.

"Don't start that now."

"Start what?" she asked innocently. She closed her mouth around his finger and pulled it slowly from her lips.

"No, Katie. Bad, Katie."

"I thought you wanted me to be bad," she said, repeating the act even slower.

"You already stalled us once with this. We'll pick up again later." Crane pulled his hand away and wrapped his fingers around the wheel.

"You're boring," she said. She opened the glove compartment and poked around.

"You are so nosey."

Katie discovered a pair of outdated men's sunglasses and slipped them on. She smiled at Crane, her petite nose dwarfed by the large, dark frames.

"Sometimes I feel like your babysitter. And if you're this bad now, I can imagine the trouble you caused."

Katie closed the glove compartment and slid the glasses to the end of her nose. She looked over them at him. "My babysitter adored me. Actually, she's buried around here."

"That's a pleasant thought."

Katie took the glasses off and folded the arms. "Crane?"

"I'm right here. You can start talking and I'll assume it's to me. You don't have to address me first."

"Do you have a sister?"

Crane's slight smile faded. "I did, yes."

Katie unfolded and folded the arms of the glasses. "June?"

Crane looked over at her.

"Weird," she said, shaking her head. "June _was_ my babysitter. You know, you think a situation can't get much weirder, and then, bam. Weirder."

Crane watched the road again. "She talked about the kids she watched all the time. I never heard a Katie Saunders mentioned."

"That's because we switched to my mother's maiden name after my father died. I was Katie Folan."

Crane clenched his jaw. June's favorite family was the Folans. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok. Sorry."

Katie continued playing with the glasses, thinking of June. Of course, she thought. June Crane. He and June even looked alike. She wondered how she could have missed it.

Crane remembered going along with June once to the Folans'. His parents were on vacation. He was eleven and too young, June thought, to be left home alone, so she took him along, gushing about how fun the kids were as they drove over. He recalled occupying the little girl and boy while his sister made dinner for the four of them.

"Very odd," Crane said several minutes later.

"She was coming home from my house when, you know," Katie said. "It took me years to stop blaming myself."

Crane remembered an inconsolable little girl at the wake. It took both her mother and brother to pry her fingers from the casket and carry her from the room.

"Anyway, I'm sorry to open old wounds."

Crane tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You look absolutely ridiculous driving a pickup," Katie told him.

"You look ridiculous in these glasses," he said, taking them from her hands and tossing them behind the seat.

"So where are we stopping?"

"I don't want to stop anymore. We'll just drive through."

Katie looked down at her dirty clothes. "Then I have no choice but to get naked."

"No choice at all."

----

Amanda pulled into the parking lot of Katie's building. She hoped to catch Katie before her morning run so they might go together. She was disappointed when Katie's car was already missing from its spot.

She decided to wait in the apartment for Katie, which she had to do so often Katie finally had a key made for her. As Amanda reached the front door she heard Katie's alarm clock beeping. The door was ajar.

"Katie, honey?" she called.

The bathroom light and fan were on. Amanda became weak as she spotted the blood smudges on the sink and bathtub. She turned to the bedroom and turned away just as quickly to find the phone. The broken glass and opened and pillaged closet confirmed her fears.

She dialed the phone with unsteady fingers and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Amanda described the situation more calmly than she thought she could. She looked at the picture of Katie and her brother on the living room wall and lost her calm.

----

The bag rang.

"Can I answer that?"

"Yes. Brilliant idea. Then let's drive by the police, honk the horn, and wave."

"I've told you, I _always_ answer. No one would suspect something was up unless I let it ring."

Katie found her phone and saw her home number displayed on the screen.

"Yes?"

"Katie! Where are you? Are you ok?" Amanda paced around Katie's living room, looking out of the window for a police cruiser.

Katie picked at the dried mud on her thigh. "I'm fine, why? Why are you in my apartment?"

Crane looked over at her.

"I told you I was coming over. What's this blood and glass and mess all about? What's going on?"

"I got a little tipsy, dropped a bulb, and made a mess while I cleaned up. No worries. I'm fine."

"Stop bullshitting me."

"I'm not bullshitting you!"

Crane looked at Katie more than the road.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"I said I'm _fine_, Amanda. I'm fine." Katie heard a siren on Amanda's end. "What's that?"

"Well I got worried."

"You-" Katie caught herself before she alarmed Crane. "You didn't call me first?"

"I walked into blood on your stuff and you were nowhere to be found. Yes. I panicked."

"Well tell _them_ I'm fine."

"Who's _them_?" Crane mouthed to Katie.

"Come back and prove you are."

"I don't have to prove anything, Amanda Lynn. I won't be home all day. Pass that on and lock my apartment on your way out."

"I still don't buy it, Katie. Something is _really_ wrong. I'm not stupid." Amanda pointed the officers to the bathroom and bedroom. "Come home if you want me to leave your apartment."

Katie hung up and squeezed the phone.

"What's going on?"

Katie sighed and gestured with the phone. "I wasn't lying yesterday when I told you my friend was coming over."

"And who's 'them'?"

Katie sighed and closed her eyes.

"Call back! Tell her you're fine!"

"I did! You heard me!"

Crane scowled and parked the car. He took Katie's phone. "Stay here, I'll be back."

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure your friend's tip-off doesn't foul things up." Crane shut the heavy door and walked away from the truck. He thought for a moment to recall the number, then dialed. "That phone number I gave you," he said dully, "Amanda. Visit her." Crane hung up. The phone rang, Katie's home number on the screen again. He removed the phone's battery and pitched it into the woods.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Batman stole my virginity

Author's note: I know, I know, I'm a total asshole for taking so long to get this out. But don't hate me too much – I just got engaged! That's partly why my head is jammed so far up my bum. Thanks for returning! I love you.

----

Crane didn't notice Katie approaching until she was two yards away. She hugged herself to block the chilly morning breeze and stopped just behind him. "What did you throw?"

Crane passed the phone over his shoulder. Katie took it, puzzled, then realized the battery was missing.

"Why would you do that? A working phone might have come in handy." She stared at the back of his head and pushed the phone into her front pants pocket. The gentle wind fought with her hair, strands sticking to her lips.

Crane wasn't sure if it was the wind or Katie's staring, but a chill awakened the fine hairs on the back of his neck. The feeling wasn't completely unpleasant. "One call from a nosey friend is enough for this trip."

"I still think answering was best. If I hadn't, the police might have believed her. As is I'm sure they patted her on the head and told her to calm down."

Crane chewed her words over, annoyed she might be right. "Even if it was, we can rest assured nothing like that will happen again."

"And why is that?" Katie asked, her tone maternal - as if she were asking him to explain why his homework wasn't finished.

"I called an associate."

"To do what?"

Crane turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder. "I've already told you. Her number was on your caller ID and I kept it incase something like this happened. Actually someone kept it for me."

Katie didn't respond. Crane's bottom lip twitched as another chill brushed his neck. It felt similar to the tips of delicate fingers trailing lightly over his skin. He thought of Katie's touch and forgot that she hadn't replied to his statement. He lost himself further, his head feeling lighter and lighter. The pills, he thought. When was the last time I took them?

Katie stepped next to Crane and stared in the same direction as he did. As if sensing his thought, she took the translucent orange bottle from her other pocket and held it in her fist. "I think you've missed about two doses, doctor."

Crane looked at her hand out of the corner of his eye and waited for her to give him the bottle. The tickle was no longer confined to his neck. Invisible fingers ran over the back of his knees, the insides of his elbows, then his entire back. He felt them on his heart and in his gut, and he grew impatient for Katie to give him the pills.

"Calling someone to do something to Amanda was a bad thing. Haven't you heard of karma?"

Crane didn't follow, the humiliating twinge of panic rising. He needed two pills to suppress it. Just two. Open it and give me two, he thought.

"You know; you do a bad thing, a bad thing happens to you."

Crane reached out to take it from her, but Katie tucked her fist under her armpit and hugged herself again. "What goes around comes around. An eye for an eye, all that good stuff. Do you believe in that, Doctor Crane?"

"This isn't the time to discuss that topic." Crane looked Katie over. She was poised and confident, nothing moving other than the rise and fall of her chest and her loose, tangling hair.

"Actually, you're wrong. This is the perfect time. You obviously called someone to harm my best friend. And as much as I care for you, it can't go unpunished. But I also can't really wait for karma to pay you back - so I'll push it along." She placed the bottle in Crane's eager hand.

Crane shook it, opened it, then looked into Katie's eyes – the cap in one hand, empty bottle in the other.

Katie smiled and shrugged.

"This isn't funny," Crane growled. He dropped to his knees and patted Katie's pockets.

"Good, because I'm not joking."

Crane's hands froze on Katie's hips. He used them to pull himself to his feet, rising slowly and watching her face the entire time. Getting up felt like it took an eternity, everything slowing down. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she whispered.

"You need them, too."

"Not as much as you do," Katie said, her whisper high and sweet. Crane's eyes were so bright that morning it was hard for Katie to tell where his irises stopped and the whites of his eyes began. Just a thin aqua ring defined the border between them. Even pretty when I'm mad at him, she thought.

Crane's anger built inside him, released as trembling hands and bared teeth. "Where are they?" he whispered back.

"She's my best friend, Crane - I love her. I had to protect her."

"You love _me_." Crane growled, poking Katie's chest with his index finger. He stabbed her again with it, both times right over her heart. "Me, Katie. Me."

"Oh Crane, I do," Katie said, her voice parental once more. "All I said was I'm repaying you in advance for whatever might befall Amanda, honey." She laid her palm against his left cheek and pouted. "I wuv my crazy baby."

Crane smacked Katie's wrist away and pushed his finger against her throat. "You have five seconds to tell me what you did with them."

"Relax. Come on, I'll show you." Katie walked back towards the truck.

Crane followed her closely, every wound on his body burning. He scratched brutally at the gash on his hip while simultaneously nibbling the cut in his bottom lip.

Katie stood by the left rear side of the vehicle.

Crane looked at her expectantly.

Katie tapped the little gas tank door.

The truck was still running, the smell of exhaust overpowering that of the damp woods on both sides of the road. "I don't know what you mean," Crane lied. He knew what she meant, but he didn't want to believe it.

"What has it been? Fifteen, twenty minutes since you walked away with my phone? Probably all dissolved by now, don't you think?"

Crane punched the truck with the side of his fist. Katie jumped but otherwise kept her cool. "I needed those," he hissed, sliding his hand along the truck as he came closer to Katie. "I can't successfully escape if my mind slips away," he told her, a lump rising in his throat. Not from tears, but from dread.

"I don't want you to be sick or back at Arkham. But you're not the only person in my heart, understand?" she said, her calm dissolving. "If you take meds you'll be functional, and even more of my loved ones could be put in danger." The same guilt Katie felt her first day as Crane's therapist washed over her now.

"I can't believe you would do this."

Katie looked away from him.

"This is no eye for an eye, little lady. No one will give out that drug, not even this far from Gotham - at least not without a battery of questions. They might have lost my scent but not the need to find me." Crane resisted the urge to strike at Katie, but the longer he went without pharmaceutical intervention, the less able he would be to hold himself back.

Katie spotted another truck approaching over the hill. "In the truck, Crane. We've been here too long."

Crane grudgingly climbed over the driver's seat and Katie jumped in behind him. She took off quickly, her stomach lurching with the sudden return to the bumpy road.

"Listen, Crane. I know you're very secretive about the details of this trip, but I need you to tell me our ultimate destination and how we're supposed to get there so I can drive."

Crane felt the haze lift for a moment. A little burst of confidence brightened his mood. "_Our_ ultimate destination? How _we're_ supposed to get there? Hmm."

"Yeah, what?"

"Nothing much, I just didn't realize you made your decision."

"What decision?"

"Katie, you know what I'm referring to."

"I don't." Katie didn't look over at him, even trying to block him from her peripheral vision.

"Be as mad at me as you like – you're still picking me over her. Over everything. That's what you're saying."

"I didn't say that. I just need you to navigate, that's all. I'm exhausted, I'm not saying things clearly – don't read into things, okay?"

"You finally made a choice. Good for you."

"Crane! Just tell me where to go."

"I will, I will. I just want you to admit you meant what you said. That's all you have to do. Then we're on _our_ way."

"There's nothing to admit!"

Crane put his finger to Katie's lashes and let tiny tears that had gathered there roll over his finger. "These tell me you do." He kept his eyes on hers and licked his finger with the tip of his tongue.

Katie felt disgusted, not by his gesture but by the part of her that liked it. "What do you want me to say? To do? And, I mean, why do you even _care_? I'm nothing to you other than some fucked up form of entertainment. I love you, unfortunately, but I don't need to stay with someone who feels nothing for me in return. I should go home."

Crane unbuckled and slid across the bench seat, stopping once his chest touched her upper arm. He rested his forehead lightly on her cheekbone, then lifted his head and spoke to her ear. "I will agree that whatever there is between us is indeed 'fucked up', as you put it. The rest of your statement, though – you couldn't be more out of touch. I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen closely. Are you listening?"

"You're talking into my ear."

Crane whispered slowly. "You've invaded my dreams since you first sat in my lecture hall. Anyone I kissed back then, anyone I slept with – I closed my eyes and pictured you. It felt like I was cheating on you. Do you know what _that _feels like? To feel like you're betraying someone you believed never gave you a second thought?" He traced her jaw with the back of his finger. "You want to know how I feel about you? Do you?"

Katie held her breath and nodded.

"I'm infatuated. Possessed. What I feel runs much deeper than love. You're imprinted on my brain, you're in my bones. So what do _you_ want? To go back to your life the way it was and never see me again? Or, Katie," he said, kissing her neck, "do you want to leave that ordinary, dead-end life behind and make a new, exciting life with me? Someone intoxicated by the very thought of you. Who desires you. Dreams you. Breathes you."

Katie pushed her neck into Crane's lips, her attention to the road waning.

"Stay with me," he said between kisses. "I don't need you to. But," Crane pushed his lips into her ear, "I sincerely want you to. Tell me you want it, too."

Katie parked for what felt like the thousandth time. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her shaking hands and unbuckled.

Crane was anxious for her answer, the feeling heightened by his fading connection with reality. He cradled her jaw and kissed her, pushing his tongue as deep as he could. His hands found their way to her neck. He rubbed his thumbs lightly over her throat. "Tell me," he repeated as they kissed.

Katie was so exhausted she could barely tell if she imagined what he said or if it actually came from his lips. "What if I do?"

The chill returned, starting at Crane's calves, touching every part of him as it headed to his lips. He rubbed the tips of his fingers against the back of Katie's neck in time with his thumbs.

His fingers made it harder for Katie to swallow, but it pushed her deeper into the moment. "What if I stayed?"

"You'd get everything I promised"

"Like what?"

Crane pressed his fingers harder. "Power equal to your intellect. Influence on par with your beauty."

"And I'd have you?"

Crane squeezed his hands around Katie's neck and pushed her back against her door. Their eyes met, unblinking. "Forever, Katie. If you give me your word."

Katie tried to speak, but Crane's grip stopped her. She put her hands over his and pulled lightly on his fingers, silently telling him to let up.

"No. I don't want you to think about anything other than your answer. Just nod or shake your head, then I'll let go."

She was thinking of two things: an answer, and the need for air. Not her family, not her friends, not her job. As rough as he was being, his face was soft. He looked as if he were about to lean in and kiss her – just waiting for her to say the right thing. The less oxygen she got, the less she could think about, and finally the only thought in her mind was to kiss those tempting, expectant lips. Crane suddenly released her throat, letting her take a breath before covering her lips with his. She was confused, and it took her a full minute to realize she had nodded.

TBC

----


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I created Batman way back in the day, but never trademarked the character and thus will never profit from his name.

Author's note: Longest chapter so far, but I think it needed to be. Of course that's what I think or it wouldn't be so long. Today I'm Captain Obvious.

Oh and WARNING, there is some sexiness. If you read anything that offends you just use that Men in Black mind erase thingy. Though I doubt anyone who's read up to chapter 10 of this story would mind sexiness.

----

Amanda stood by Katie's living room and watched the police drive off. In a way they were right. Katie was not missing according to the language of the law. But she _is _missing, Amanda thought. Even when saying goodbye to Katie on her birthday, Katie was somewhere else.

Amanda approached the bathroom and wiped away a speckle of blood from the doorknob. Even if the Katie I know hurt herself she would never leave a bloody mess in her wake. She's not only missing, Amanda thought while wiping another spot on the doorframe. She's hiding. How am I supposed to find someone who doesn't want to be found?

Confused and brokenhearted Amanda returned to her apartment, no longer interested in going for a run. She acknowledged the two men smoking by the entrance to her building with a nod. It was a big place and there were always people smoking by the entrance.

"Hey, can you let us in? We're visiting someone but we're locked out." The man who addressed her was shorter than her and scruffy with an oversized army green sweatshirt and faded baseball hat. His friend was a few inches taller, everything shaved but his eyebrows.

"Sorry," Amanda shrugged, unlocking the door. "Building policy – you can only let your own guests in."

"Good then," the bald one said.

"I'm sorry?"

"We're your guests, Amanda."

Amanda tried to slip through the door without letting them follow her, but the taller one grabbed her arm.

"Aww Mandy, don't be a rude hostess."

Amanda finally made it past the door and tried to close it, crushing the man's wrist in the process. He let go of her and forced the door open, following her into the lobby.

"Help! Somebody, please!" Amanda's ribs ached from screaming so desperately. She reached the third floor and ran down the hallway, calling for help as she went.

The injured man shook his arm out in the lobby while the other ran after Amanda. He paused at the third floor then ran down the hall, following Amanda's voice.

Amanda banged a left at the end of that hallway and flew down another, not screaming this time. She pushed open the first ajar door she found and shut it quietly behind her. She locked it and put her finger to her lips, requesting silence from the family eating eggs and bacon around their dining room table. The little girl cautiously put a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth and chewed slowly.

"Call the police," Amanda mouthed.

The woman she presumed was the mother tightened the belt of her robe and grabbed a phone.

"Someone broke in. They're chasing me," Amanda told her.

Multiple cruisers arrived within minutes, only capturing the man that followed Katie upstairs. Back at the station the police wondered what correlation, if any, there could be between Amanda's earlier call and this one. After the first hour of questioning, Amanda made a troubling connection between events as she waited for a secretary to return with coffee. When she told a detective a few minutes later, he quickly pressed his intercom button and called in several others. "Now that's an interesting little theory you've come up with," the detective said with a mustachioed smile. "I hope I'm wrong, though," she responded, observing the little cloud the creamer made as she poured it into her mug.

-----

"You're oddly quiet," Crane commented.

"Spacing out," Katie replied, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

"And that's it?"

"Yup."

"Well perk up, would you? You're making me uncomfortable."

Katie laughed through her nose. "Sorry, I'll work on it."

Crane let go of Katie's neck several hours before, but she still felt the ghosts of his fingers. After he released her throat and kissed her, Crane kept Katie's face in his hands. He held his breath and studied her face, focusing for several seconds on each feature. Katie blushed and watched his eyes, not sure what he was doing but liking it anyway.

"You nodded."

"Yes," Katie whispered, feeling her blush deepen.

"Yes," Crane repeated, his eyes on her lips. "Tell me you won't try and leave."

"I won't."

"You want this."

"I do."

Crane moaned through closed lips. "I hope you like a little mystery, because I'm still not divulging many details about this trip." Crane popped the "p" at the end of the sentence, his lips staying parted, turning into a smile.

"Then I won't tell you what I actually did with the pills."

"Ouch," Crane said, wincing in pretend pain. He bit his bottom lip and smiled again. "What do I need to do for you to give me some?"

"Let's play hot or cold."

"Explain."

"You look for them, and if you're close I'll tell you you're warm, and if not, then cold."

"That doesn't sound fun."

"What if I told you they were somewhere on my body?"

Crane reached back and wrapped a hand around her ankle.

"Cold."

He sighed and ran his hand up her calf.

"A little warmer."

He watched his hand climb up her thigh.

"Warmer…"

His hand stopped on her pocket.

"Hot."

Crane slid his middle and ring finger into Katie's pocket, grazing the fly of her jeans with his thumb. He found one pill and rested it on Katie's stomach, then repeated the act and found the other.

"I'll let you have them," Katie said, "but you can't use your hands."

Crane repositioned as much as the cab of the truck would allow, his shoulders touching the insides of Katie's thighs, his chin resting on the button of her fly. He put his hands under Katie's hips, showing her he wouldn't try to grab the pills from her stomach.

"So how are you going to get them?"

Crane kept his head still and strained with his tongue, making little grunting noises. Katie giggled, causing the pills to roll a little closer to Crane. He looked up at Katie and stuck his tongue out again, purposely missing the target, licking the little bit of skin revealed between the top of Katie's pants and bottom of her shirt. She laughed and squirmed, and Crane caught the pills on his tongue before they rolled off of her.

"If I administered medication that way from the beginning, might you have reconsidered escaping?"

"Without a doubt."

"If only I thought of this earlier."

"No sense for regrets now. Onward we go, driver."

"Onward where?" Katie asked. She took a seat behind the wheel and fixed her hair.

"Regardless of what you say, I'm troubled by your friend's call. I'm changing course slightly…which I suppose doesn't matter much to you since you didn't know the direction in the first place."

"Refrain from thinking out loud and simply tell me where we're going."

"How much longer can you stay awake?"

"It hasn't even been a day yet. If I had some caffeine I could go for a good amount of time. But only if at the end of it I will be able to eat, shower, and sleep somewhere that's not creepy."

"Sleep, maybe. And I packed a few edible items. Shower, not yet. We just have one quick stop around here and then you can sleep once we ditch the truck."

"You know, I just realized something. Every time I ask for more information your answers leave me all the more confused."

"Mission accomplished, then."

Katie shook her head and drove off, finally able to head to the next stop without pulling over. Crane was true to his word. They only stopped briefly at a boarded up gas station. Crane left Katie in the truck, no longer concerned she would take off without him. Katie purposely avoided looking at what he returned with, keeping her eyes on her lap while Crane added the item to their growing duffle bag.

"Last stop for the day: truck disposal." It didn't take Katie long to figure out where Crane was guiding her. The moment she got her license she borrowed her brother's car and drove the hour out to the coast. It never ceased to take her breath away. Beaches, dunes, cliffs, and canals – more water than roads. During the summer the tourists flocked, but this time a year it was mainly locals. During high school she came home at all hours of the night, her mother assuming she was in the city partying. Instead she was reading by the ocean or walking barefoot, almost always by herself. The mere thought of the area relaxed her. She couldn't wait to smell the salt air.

They drove quite a ways until Crane found his desired location. They climbed out of the truck by an isolated area on the cliff. In the summer couples and families were gathered in droves to take pictures, but right then it was just the two of them and some gulls. "Take the bag and leave the engine running," he told Katie. "Find two very heavy rocks of equal size."

"How heavy?"

Crane rolled his eyes under closed lids. "Very."

Katie went off in search of "very" heavy rocks, looking out over the cliff more than at the ground.

"Do it quickly," he called to her.

"Do it quickly," she mumbled to herself. She came back a minute later with a rock that required both arms to carry.

"That might be _too_ big."

"Of course," Katie groaned. She dropped the rock and went off in search of its mate.

When Katie returned the truck was parked at a different angle and Crane was working hard at scraping something off of the driver's side doorframe. He ignored her until he was finished. "Hand me one." Crane put the first rock on the floor of the driver's side, then put the other next to it.

"Oh," Katie said after handing over the second rock. "This can't possibly turn out well."

"Ye of little faith."

Katie wanted to back away but she was too curious. She looked over Crane's shoulder as he carefully rolled one rock onto the break while simultaneously rolling the other onto the gas pedal. The truck revved and Katie couldn't help but take a few steps back. Crane opened the driver's side window and closed the door. He reached through and put the vehicle in drive, backing away quickly. When it stayed put, he smiled contentedly. He checked the steering wheel's position and opened the door again, crouching below it. "Ready?" he asked Katie.

"I…guess."

Crane held both hands above the rock on the break. He waited a few seconds, said something to himself Katie couldn't hear, ducked, grabbed the rock, and backed away as quickly as possible.

The truck hesitated for half a second before driving itself 200 yards up the road, then through the whitewashed wooden fence that defined the line between the road and the steep side of the cliff. Katie ran after the truck and arrived at the broken fence just in time to see the truck meet the rocky waters far, far below. Crane joined her and looked over the edge.

"Damn water. I wish it hit the ground and exploded," Katie said to Crane disappointedly.

They stood together and watched it sink.

"Ok, that was satisfying," Crane said after the last air bubble broke the surface. "Now take your boots off."

"Can I wear your shoes, then?"

"No sole prints and no time to waste."

Katie pulled her boots off while hopping over to the bag. She picked it up and walked quickly beside Crane. He led her past the point where vehicles could travel, heading down towards the shore.

"Hold up, hold up," Katie said, stopping to brush jagged pieces of rock and shell from the bottom of her foot. "Fuck that hurt." She followed Crane's gaze and looked over the side of the cliff towards the horizon line.

"Serene," Crane said.

"I love it here."

"We need to stay somewhere until it gets dark again."

Katie thought over a few possibilities before the most appealing one came to her. "Perfect spot, right near by, follow me."

She headed towards a favorite reading spot of hers. They came to a beach, relieving Katie's feet of rock-induced pain. She practically skipped as they got closer. Under a wide, long dock was a cavern in the rock, accessible only by wading through a foot of water. Seeing the spot again gave her chills. Crane had chills too, but from the freezing water.

The tide stopped just in front of the cavern, which was as wide and long as a king-sized bed. Katie embraced the dry sandy ground as if it were a beloved friend. She rolled onto her back, arms and legs spread as if she were about to make a snow angel.

Crane ducked and sat down, not able to stand in the small space.

"This is what I'm talkin' about," Katie sighed. She sat up and looked out on the water. Minutes later she looked behind her. Crane was on his side, asleep using a sweatshirt for a pillow. Katie crawled behind him and laid in the same direction, her stomach against his back. She put an arm around him and her lips to his neck. In his sleep Crane nuzzled into Katie. She felt euphoric, never wanting to leave that moment in time, falling asleep with a smile.

---

"And so you had no idea that Dr. Saunders knew him prior to his incarceration?"

Dr. Desai sunk further into the cushions of his living room couch. "None whatsoever," he said, surprise still in his voice. "Was it more than just a student-teacher relationship?"

"Doesn't appear to have been at the time."

"Then why wouldn't she have disclosed their prior association?"

The detective erased something on his notepad and wrote over the spot. "Just one of the many things we're trying to figure out."

"Even so, I don't believe she would go with him willingly, if that is in fact where she went."

The detective looked at Desai sympathetically. "But you wouldn't have believed she knew him previously if I didn't tell you."

Desai shook his head, his eyes wet. "I don't understand any of this. This isn't like Katie."

"I'm sure it feels that way, Dr. Desai."

Desai closed his eyes and put his thumb on his right tear duct, the ring finger of the same hand on his left. He held them there for a few seconds, then wiped his hand on his thigh and sat up straighter. "What can I help you with?"

"Accessing the asylum, her records, her notes on him, your accounts of their interactions, things like that. We'll have you come to the station first. Why don't you follow me in your car and we'll go now."

"Can my wife join me?"

The detective looked to his right through the leaded glass doors that partitioned the living room from the foyer. Desai's wife's silhouette paced back and forth. "She can come with you to the station, of course."

Desai nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate you coming in person to speak with me."

"Not a problem. Before we go you need to know, though, that the truth is…we have good reason to believe regardless of how she left, she's willingly going along now."

"No, she-"

"Very strong evidence. Don't react now. Think about it in the car. We'll talk at the station." The detective excused himself, letting Desai's wife know she should drive her husband across town.

---

"Why didn't you stop them then, sir?"

"I could have chased them or saved a man's life. I chose the latter," Bruce Wayne told his butler. They were in the depths of a dank cave, a seated Bruce shuffling and reshuffling papers spread across a desk. His British butler Alfred looked over his shoulder.

"What about saving the girl?"

Bruce looked up at his butler. "Trust me, Alfred. She was more than happy to be with him."

"How can you be so sure?"

Bruce returned his attention to the desk. "The weather was bad and I was on the roof, but I was able to hear some of what they were saying. I believe a direct quote would be, 'yes yes, harder, don't stop, oh god harder'." Bruce looked back up at Alfred.

"That was too much information then, wasn't it?"

Bruce chuckled. "Just be grateful you weren't there to hear it."

"I'll thank God for that daily." Alfred walked over to another table and studied some of the objects on it. "Do you know where they are now?"

"Yes and no."

"Well it can't be both."

"I know their destination but not the path they're taking. I'll track down one of the girl's friends tonight before heading that way. Bring her along."

"What good would that do?"

Bruce held a picture of Katie and Amanda with both hands. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"Ah, pretty girl," Alfred said, standing by Bruce once more. "That wouldn't happen to be part of your motivation for bringing her would it, sir?"

"Of course not." Bruce replaced the picture and took another. Amanda held a sparkler in each hand and stood in front of a beach bonfire, all of the twinkle and flame reflected in her deep blue eyes. "I can't believe you would say such a thing."

"You're right, I'm being foolish. A girl that attractive would never take an interest in you."

Bruce spun his chair around. "And why not?"

"I don't know," Alfred said, heading towards the elevator. "I suppose you'll just have to prove me wrong."

"I'm terribly offended," Bruce called after him.

Alfred pulled a lever and the elevator began to rise. "You're also terribly single. Don't bring this girl just to get a closer look."

"I would never."

The elevator was almost out of sight. "Of course not."

Bruce laughed silently and held up Amanda's picture. "Be helpful. Don't make a liar out of me," he told the picture.

---

Amanda walked quickly to the train, finally leaving the police station just after suppertime. She zipped up the "GOTHAM PD" sweatshirt the police had given her, still clad in her tank top and shorts upon arrival. She put the hood on and blasted her headphones, trying to push thoughts of Katie out of her head if only for a little while. She took a short cut between two large office buildings. It was a less savory route, but one she took all the time back in school. Between songs Amanda heard a voice from somewhere in the ally. She turned the volume down and listened closely, regretting turning down a police escort home.

"Amanda," a voice called, bouncing off the damp brick walls.

She took off her headphones and walked faster, more and more annoyed with her choice to head home alone. She inhaled in order to breathe a sigh of relief as she reached the end of the ally.

"Amanda," a rough voice called again.

Amanda held her breath and froze.

"Up here."

She looked up to her right, the side of a figure illuminated by a street light several yards away.

"Um…can I help you?" Amanda asked as if greeting a customer.

"You can help me help your friend."

"Who are you?" Amanda strained to see some kind of detail.

"She's assisting Crane in his escape. You might be the only person who can convince her to stop. If she doesn't, she'll be considered an accomplice."

Amanda's legs tensed, ready to run if necessary. "What do you know about any of this?"

"More than you. Do you want to help?"

"I want my friend back."

"How well do you know her?"

"I thought I knew her very well."

"Close?"

Amanda relaxed her legs. A few tears finally escaped after building throughout the entire day. "Like sisters." She blinked through the tears and the figure was gone. Moments later blinding headlights appeared down the ally behind her. She backed up against one of the buildings, the back of her hand shielding her eyes, a trashcan on either side of her. The car accelerated rapidly and sped down the ally, breaking suddenly in front of her. Its roof retracted.

Amanda approached the vehicle as if it were a sleeping bear. When she could finally see the driver, she nearly lost bladder control.

"I won't hurt you," he said in response to Amanda's uneasy expression.

"Batman," Amanda said, dropping her headphones.

He waited for her to complete a thought, but all she had to say was "Batman". He refrained from smiling. "Come with me."

Amanda bit the tip of her tongue and stared at him.

"Come with me, Amanda."

She continued to stare, her knees stuck together like magnets.

"For the sake of your friend."

"Right," she nodded, staying put.

"Amanda," he snapped.

Amanda took tiny steps towards the vehicle and stopped. "How-"

"Climb."

Amanda tried to get in the vehicle, slipping in the process and awkwardly landing in the seat. The windscreen and roof closed quickly and the car took off even faster. She watched the city whiz by the small windows. Her knees were still pressed together, her feet a foot apart with toes turned in. She kept her hood on and blocked the left side of her vision. The situation was already bizarre enough, and nearly every time she was extremely uncomfortable she would burst out laughing. If she looked at him she knew she would first snort, then giggle, and then laugh until she couldn't breath – the same thing she did at her grandmother's funeral.

"It's a long drive – sit back."

Amanda snorted. She leaned forward further and covered her mouth with both hands.

"I'm sorry if I scared you."

Amanda kept her hands on her mouth and giggled.

"Are you crying?"

Amanda sat back. "Sorry, I do this when I'm nervous. Today is so messed up. God, all the weird events in my life combined don't add up to today. If we find Katie I'm going to kill her." She finally stopped laughing, but she couldn't stop smiling. Then she began crying. Crying and smiling. "Wake me up. Please, please, please. This isn't happening. Oh my god I'm in Batman's car. I'm going to throw up."

"Do you always speak your inner monologue?"

"No, only when I really shouldn't."

Once they hit the highway Amanda wasn't sure where they were headed. She originally came to Gotham from out of state and never ventured much further than city limits. She pulled her hood further into her face and thought about all the other things that should have happened that day. "So, uhm…Batman," she said after several minutes of silence. "My kids in class really look up to you. Give them some crayons and paper and they just start drawing…you."

"What would they think of you joining me on a quest to save your friend?"

"A 'quest'. I'm on a quest. Insane." She pinched her lips together with her fingers. "Why can't I just shut up?" she asked through them.

"You don't have to shut up."

"Ugh, I'm talking your ears off." She laughed again. "Do you carry a gun?"

"No, why?"

"Because someone should shoot me. I'm so embarrassed. I'm not usually this…obnoxious."

Batman looked at Amanda. She felt him looking and held the side of her hood back enough to peek an eye out at him. "I certainly hope not," he said.

Amanda grabbed the strings of her hood and pulled it completely closed, all but her nose hidden. "Katie is dead."

Batman sped up to well over 100 miles per hour. "You're entertaining."

Amanda smiled inside of her cotton cocoon. "You're Batman," she laughed quietly.

---

Crane awoke, his entire body feeling like a fresh bruise. He could tell the sun was setting from the orange water under the dock. Katie's nose was against the nape of his neck, her warm breath in stark contrast to the brisk ocean breeze.

"No no, a little more," Katie protested when Crane nudged her awake.

"Not right now."

"My stomach's rumbling."

"I'm sure there's an abundance of fish in these waters. Go catch yourself one."

Katie rose to her knees and groaned. "It hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Everything."

The tide had receded. Katie clumsily followed Crane down the beach.

"I'd love to live on the beach some day," Katie commented.

"It's certainly a nice thought."

"Yeah?" Katie said, catching up to Crane. "I never thought of you as a beach person."

"What kind of person am I, then?"

About a thousand descriptions cycled through Katie's mind. "Deranged."

"Hmm. I think I like that adjective."

"Which shows exactly how deranged you are."

"So what does that make you?"

Katie shifted the bag onto her other shoulder. "A woman in love with a crazy."

"I don't think I liked being referred to as 'a crazy'."

"But you are a crazy. You're a crazy little man."

"I definitely don't like being called a little man."

"It's not my fault you're petite. Elfin. Diminutive. Wee."

"It's worse to be attached to an elfin crazy man than to be one. I can't help what I am. You chose me, however."

Katie wondered if they were just walking or if there was a destination. "If I could help loving you, I would."

Katie said the words lightheartedly, but Crane was surprised by how much they stung.

"No come back?"

Crane said nothing.

"Jeez, I'm sorry."

"You were only speaking the truth. Who would choose this situation unless they felt like they had no choice?"

Katie stopped Crane with her hand against his chest. She dropped the bag and held his waist. "I have a choice."

"Katie," Crane began. He put his hands on her shoulders. "You don't have a choice now. You can't go back."

"Of course I could," Katie said, wondering how true her words were.

"You're too deep now."

Katie pulled away from him and left him with the bag. "I could go if I wanted to."

"And where would you go?" Crane called, his feet still in the same spot.

Katie walked faster.

"Where would you go now, Katie?" he yelled to her.

"Home!"

"And where is that?" he asked, finally making Katie halt. "I'm your home now, Katie."

Crane couldn't read Katie's body language from so far away.

"Yes, my dear. You had a choice once, and I think you chose wisely. But don't delude yourself into thinking you have a choice anymore."

Katie didn't move closer to or further from him.

"You go 'home', then," he said, approaching her. "I'm sure the police would be very interested to hear why you helped me when I came to you and why you stayed when I made you come with me. Your boss will love it when he finds out you never told him I was your professor. Your best friend will be elated that, because of you, two men bombarded her at her apartment. I can just imagine how _proud_ your mother and brother will be of you. And even if none of that bothers you," he said, stopping just a few feet from her back. "Even if you're fine with all of that, Katie – you would miss me so much you would ache. You're empty without your little crazy man, aren't you, honey?"

"Stop it!" she screamed tearfully.

"The diminutive, deranged love of your life."

Katie fell onto her hands and knees, crying so hard her sobs became silent, loud and throaty, then silent again. She dug her fingers into the sand and let herself fall onto her forearms. She cried harder and harder, her eyes, nose, and mouth all running. When she ran out of sobs she collapsed, screaming and heaving into her arms. Everything hit her.

Crane stood, observing her breakdown. "Surely you already thought of everything I just said."

"Does it look like I had?" she screamed into her arms.

"Maybe you shouldn't have nodded, then."

Katie rolled onto her side and looked up at him, annoyed how good he looked in the setting sun. "I _am_ empty without you."

"The truth hurts."

Katie sniffled. "I still loved how my life was."

"Without me?"

"You're not everything."

"All those things are dead to you now. I know I'm not your everything. I don't intend to be everything to you. I want you to be equally as passionate about wanting this," he said making a sweeping gesture to the ocean.

"The water?"

"Not the water." Crane laid on top of Katie and wiped her face with his thumbs. "You should own the world."

"I don't want the world. Being a part of it is enough."

"Not good enough for you. Everything is beneath you."

"Or so you think."

"Everything is beneath you," he repeated, kissing her.

"Why do you have to say horrible things to me before you say nice ones?"

"All I ever say is the truth." Crane kissed Katie, the wet sounds of caressing lips and tongues louder to their ears than the crashing waves.

"It's not completely dark out yet," Katie said.

"Not quite, why?"

"We should go back to the little cavern until it is."

"It's too far."

"It's a tenth of a mile away."

Crane hastily undid Katie's pants. "There's no one for miles and miles."

"Crane-"

"I can't wait." Crane quickly undid his own pants and pulled them down to his knees. Katie tucked her thumbs under the hips of her underwear, but Crane pushed aside the bit of fabric obstructing his path and thrust into her. It took him a few moments to be able to form words or phrases, and his lips opened before he thought he had anything to say. "You're my home, Katie."

Katie hugged him to her and shuddered. "You're not everything, but everything is nothing without you," she whispered into his ear.

"We're getting on a plane tonight."

"To where?" Katie asked, her voice vibrating as Crane hastily slipped in and out of her.

"Somewhere to spend a little time before we're prepared to go back to Gotham."

"What are we going to do there?"

"Make something special before we grace Gotham with our presence."

"Like sweet, sweet love?"

"Don't be funny while we're doing this. Let's just stop talking altogether," Crane said breathlessly.

"But what if I want to tell you how fucking good this feels?"

"Uhm…that I will allow."

Katie whispered into Crane's ear little naughty things that made him purr, but the feather-light touch of the tip of her tongue on his earlobe made him buck into her. This time she stayed quiet and enjoyed his climax, capturing the moment to relive in countless future daydreams. She bit his cheek lightly when he finished and kissed the faint tooth marks.

Crane tugged his pants up and laid next to Katie. They let the sun set on them, both no longer conscious of the chill in the air. They were also unaware that two familiar faces were headed to the airport as well, one of them veiled by a black cowl.

---

TBC

Author's note: It says "This time she stayed quiet and enjoyed his climax…" because in the little deleted scene in chap. 7 the opposite happened. That scene is on adult fanfiction dot net if you're curious.


End file.
